I have learned to just, live wisely,
Look at the sky and pray to God,
And long before the evening wander,
To tire unnecessary alarm.
When rustle in the ravine mugs
And niknet bunch of mountain ash yellow-red,
I compose funny poems
On the life of perishable, perishable and beautiful.
I'm coming back. Licking my hand
Fluffy cat, purrs sweetly,
And the bright lights fire
At the pinnacle of the lake sawmill.
Only occasionally penetrates the silence
Creek stork, congregate on the roof.
And if you knock on my door in,
It seems to me, I did not even hear.