Let's Speak With Me - Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova
In the woods breast green blood is running
The leaves sing folk songs while dancing.
My whole body is filled with green rays,
Do speak with me in the language of leaves.
The drops are the opened secrets of the sky,
The curious tender grass picks up with shy.
The secrets can not be housed in my heaven,
Do speak with me in the language of the rain.
The passed day maturity will not return even.
A cloudy anxiety is stretching to the heaven,
The life is stolen by a steed-horse with a wing,
Do speak with me in the language of the wind.
If an orphan leaf lays the head upon your toe,
The orphaned dreams crystallize on its flower.
With deep grieves of blue eyes do not come!
In the language of dry leaves the words flame.
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