With Tchaikovsky my soul was singing,
Singing about beauty,
5-dimentional worlds appeared,
And my soul in new forms was routing.
And my hands were like blades of grasses,
And my hair were like shining gold rays,
There were millions of glasses,
Showing the souls of great composers.
***
С Чайковским душа моя пела,
пела о красоте,
и миры пяти измерений
были руслом моей душе.
Мои руки - травинок стебли,
золотые лучи волос.
В миллионах стекольных стенок -
композиторы всех эпох.
№261
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
an undertone of musical note pervades in the poem, well composed thanks for sharing.