10-04-2019, 09:32 AM -
I’ll start with a beautiful poem
The Frog by Vladimir Romanov
The mountain road rumbles
After the heavenly rains
The hills fill with gurgles and murmurs
Beneath the order of the earth's dome,
A white stone lies in the bog
Under a solitary reed,
All puffed up, a frog croaks
At the call of his restless mate.
Longing to be with her,he puffs out his chest
To be number one in this boggy kingdom
And produce a dynasty of brave offspring
Who will trumpet the glory of these places,
A living symphony
Above the ordered chaos of the earth,
And the clock ticks
To mark my passing years.
The Frog by Vladimir Romanov
The mountain road rumbles
After the heavenly rains
The hills fill with gurgles and murmurs
Beneath the order of the earth's dome,
A white stone lies in the bog
Under a solitary reed,
All puffed up, a frog croaks
At the call of his restless mate.
Longing to be with her,he puffs out his chest
To be number one in this boggy kingdom
And produce a dynasty of brave offspring
Who will trumpet the glory of these places,
A living symphony
Above the ordered chaos of the earth,
And the clock ticks
To mark my passing years.