среда, 4 июля 2012 г.



Небесная синь призрачным  облаком
Прикрывает свой уголок.
У подножия  горы
Прилепился небольшой хуторок.
 Деревянные домики.
Вдалеке от городской  суеты и тревог.
Забыты, заброшены.
Раньше был здесь, может колхоз,
А сейчас и поля заросли
И сено не скошено.
Кому они нужны?
Вот в чем вопрос.
До Москвы не доехать сибирским жителям,
И голос их слаб,
Не услышать издалека.
Вымирают деревни,
Остаются лишь бабушки
И может один или два старика.

03.07.2012  gmishaooo


Heavenly blue illusive cloud
Covers the corner.
At the mountain bottom
The small hutorok was stuck.
 Wooden lodges.
In the distance from city bustle and alarms.
Are forgotten, thrown.
Was here earlier, the collective farm can,
And now and fields grew
And hay isn't mown.
To whom are they necessary?
Here in what a question.
To Moscow not to reach to the Siberian inhabitants,
And their voice is weak,
Not to hear from far away.
Villages die out,
There are only grandmothers
Also can one or two old men.

03.07.2012   gmishaooo

3 комментария:

  1. So quiet, these villages are empty now and keep silence and secrets of passed life...
    Thanks to you.

    I read sadness through your words.

    Good evening, Gmishaooo.

  2. Desolated places. Deserted places. They used to be. Where thousands of people met, settled, lived, worked, gathered.
    Now it's seems to be shadows, ghosts living there.
    Beautiful words once again. To illustrate beautiful pictures as well.

  3. Thanks. For your words, sympathy. At the village route as that still live, and further... The youth leaves, work isn't present, or kopeks pay. Drinks the people in free time. As live I do not know.