My Poems
When unsuccess and troubles are around me,
when only loneliness visits my home,
when I have no soul warmth and light
and Depression wants to kill my last smile,
I call my own poems.
They -- my night birds -- fly to me quickly.
They breathe on my hair and eyelashes,
They sing beautiful songs
together with my soul.
They repeat the magic words:
" All will be well !"
My poems give me a new hope,
and I continue to live.
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