Magic pipe played under a rainbow...
And the old oak rustled the leaves with jingle...
From far the wind brought the song secretly...
She is more aerial, than the dream sleeping
On wings of the butterfly...
She is more the thin, than the newborn pearls
On depth of the sea...
She is more sensitive,
Than a lonely beam a candle in darkness...
But she is stronger from magic melodies,
Than monotony of a droplet of water on a stone
Magic pipe played under a rainbow...
17.01.09
beautiful words Tsiri making beautiful images in my head...thank you....Fi
Magical words written by you, a charming piece, thanks Tsira, Lynda xx 10
the magic sounds -perhaps nothing more than abscence and rectitude- Icy voices into a solid gaz-
A deeply enchanting poem Tsira, excellent work. Best wishes, Andrew
magic pipe...very true and your taste for nature is well brought out..great poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tsira, most enjoyable read. Good poetry. Ian