Pavel Rup

I love to soar o'er fields of purest white
Where blooming words in beauty softly lie.
I fly with cranes beneath the morning light'.
And as I gaze, the world begins to fly!
...

Madam History sways, it swings, it plays,
It climbs so high,
Then downward strays!
Nothing stands still—it all goes on.
...

Outside the window, along the lanes,
the dawn with rose the birches glows.
Winter has painted the skies in a soft, blue velvet haze.
The distant cars' hum and the fleeting sketches of passers near,
...

What is humility?   
The soul's enlightenment  
The prideful opinion
Of self—extinguish pride.
...

The linden trees are bare,
The maples blackened so;
The winds are softly weeping,
And the rains fiercely grow.
...

Silently one can love,
Forlornly shrouded in thoughts,
Drunk on imagined lies,
Awaiting the heart's reply.
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In life, perhaps, I fear no more a thing,
But pangs of conscience frighten my weary soul.
In night's deep hush, I pray, my voice takes wing -
My heart aches sharp, and tears begin to roll.
...

The chill of dawn, so gentle, so profound
Brushes your skin, the newborn day is found
I cherish this—the freshness and the calm,
What more could one desire than Nature's balm
...