dawn [Theme] Page 3

At dawn, early morning at dawn,
Across the river on the grass
Walking the red horse
The red horse walks.
Bright sun-drenched,
Waving his Golden mane
My childhood, the red horse.
And in the meadows, so the ringing in the meadows of dew
Touch.
In the wind, raging in the wind
Red horse proudly.
On the ground hoof beats,
The silence from the river drinking
My childhood, the red horse.

You Wake up at the crack of dawn
We with you will celebrate
Birthday of dawn.
What a wonderful world, look!
What a wonderful world!

Have vytkalsya on lake red light of dawn.
On the Bor with the ringing cry grouse.
Crying somewhere Oriole, Sharunas in the hollow.
Only I'm not crying - my heart is light.
Know will come in the evening for the ring roads,
Sit in stacks fresh under a nearby haystack.
Love drunk, will somno, such as color,
Melinoma from the joy of gossip is not.
You're under the caresses reset silk veils,
I'll take drunk until the morning in the bushes.
And let with the ringing cry grouse,
There is a longing in the fun Aloth of dawn.

With steep banks look
Evening dawn.
And heart fun to listen to
Rays farewell caress,
And want hurry to catch
Nights the spring fairy.

Heart, let's get to the wooded hills,
Where a secret brotherhood of the moon
The sun and the sky and the steepness
His will bequeaths to us.
And the Lord blows on a barren mountain,
And the eternal flight times and planets
And love sweeter - dusk light
And more hope - the dew at dawn.

I'll fall into you, my dawn,
Wash with warm rays.
Hardens tear drop amber
And the voice of my poems.
That find this moment, then again lose.
Roam alone in the darkness dumb.
When you're heart melts
And filled with spring.
Once the souls want to stick,
You quietly call me.
And the midnight sky will light up
Constellations new family.

"Winter" time...
Morning autumn day. Outside the window, as night - lights, lights, advertising.
Sometimes so passionately and eagerly waiting for dawn. But they were all twilight - rain, fog. What I need, physically need dawn.
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But sometimes we sit at the window, tired from the surrounding darkness, and look - there, back away.
When the first rays paint the clouds in a pink and Golden color.
Gentle dawn - Aurora - will smile to us with a sour autumn skies. And all this is impossible Khmara, twilight horror is swept away by the fresh morning wind.
Every morning I Wake up hoping that this will happen.
Time, in principle, nothing.
We in fact everyone has their own biological clock inside. And this is good. Is our identity. This is our personal inner freedom. The freedom of which we all dream, although sometimes do not admit it to themselves. And don't say it out loud.
At the time because there are no boundaries. And label it "summer" or "winter" is possible only conditionally.
All the same, because it's light. And the sun will appear from behind the clouds. And Aurora - dawn - delicate and bright, always new as the first day of creation, we all smile.

Dawn approached, a huge orange morning sun rose in the framing of multiple stained scarlet clouds. At the sight of this heaven, even the most prosaic bore opens suddenly buried in the depths of the soul need to paint with oil.

In a century the darkness of the black spruce
Blushed dark dawn
And the fireflies in the bushes burned
Green smoke amber.

To reach dawn can only be the trail of the night.

To enjoy the sunrise, you have to admire the dawn.

But dawn, dawn, dawn...
The work of God in bestowing,
The Golden forest and arable land
Light clear amber.
But dawn, dawn, dawn...
All are trying in vain.
Inspire our fate,
The soul simply put.
The soul simply put...