On the colorful roofs

On the colorful poofs

The streets are filled with walkers.

The streets are filled with talkers.

 

 

The grey clouds cover the blue sky.

I am the one who wants to cry.

The dust covers the walks of the city,

The squares, parks don't look pretty.

 

 

The winds play with the leaves

They look like thieves.

The cold autumn is coming

Only peasants are farming.

 

 

Under the gray and gloomy skies,

The early morning fog cries.

It rises to a quick fox

Who is lazy and lives in a box.

 

 

The winds are certainly dark,

They want to live in the park.

They want to live higher,

They don't want to be a liar.

 

 

 

When the sky is definitely blue.

When the weather forecast is true,

The war seems to be very far,

You have a wish to look at the star.

 

 

In the boring, colorful gap,

The wind took off the cap.

The weather admired the war,

The war behaved like a whore.

 

 

The war seemed to be fought with tears.

It turned out to live with fears.

The war seemed to be the thief,

It had broken the belief.

 

 

©Larisa Rzhepishevska