Russian Country

On this barren land,
Majestic broad-shouldered fields,
Sharp straight-spined pines
Rivers & lakes of ice
Where lavender nor roses peep out,
Where the furthest snowflake
Rubs shoulders with the musk horizon
Where no grapes nor any other
Dare to grow
A familiar breeze sometimes passes
And each step earth moans,
For deep below is the heart
This barren land,
So humble and silent
Listless under a thick
Blanket of snow

 

 

Copyright Vladimir Fanshil © 2017