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Poems
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For many are fought and suffered by him,
Loosed from the hate and lies,
You get thrown floods of light;
Another moment of what you love, do not call.
If I would be, well - no.
What their hearts conceal bear,
Sees the light woven origins.
Oh, wait their golden interval
What separates the sun\'s coming!
You disappeared. Someone wandered lonely,
And division of the snow in his eyes.
Today we throw heavy hands
In each beloved, dying
We are part of the self to rock.
How tired breath carbon monoxide.
And dense fog iedzedz light a candle
Your father - or mine.
As the face of near and dear.
Under the old oak refuge
In addition to klaidienam old acorn;
The roots and hard kumpainām
I place the head and shower,
With lightning-lived when iztrupots,
With thunder rain and hail.
And krāsnsmute tvanīgu heat pour.
Let the fire be born again golden ore,
To a reflection around the room and eyes Dej.
There is a chunk of life - like bread - thick.
Take a cup of water when thirsty jāremdē,
Take warm bread and an afternoon snack would go!
By Next Year once again under the loaf here.
As the heart wants to believe that a man can be so -
On a warm oven to flee away!. . .
Someone pulled me to the wing of the hand.
Moans the air, feel the time skrietnam wings,
In this stream I have to fly one. . .
What a strange morning, when surrounded by snow,
On his shoulders and sat on his hands.
With the hot hand and the dreams
It will not melt anymore.
Already škērtīs dzeiveibu with me:
Patriotic to the sand I shower -
To Dzīsme around me\'s that sound?
When going up, we still remain behind other
And remain in a world where the CISS is at the same time.
Green, lush turf over the deck. . .
Also, they have a home - a home life.
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