***
In a faraway Muslim country,
Where the muezzin sings loudly,
In silks I bask in the ottoman,
Savor the luxury of wines.
But I will start, having heard my own:
The moaning of the wind or the singing of birds ...
And immediately my soul will rise -
So reading ancient pages
Scriptures of the Sacred Alarm
And he will turn us over to the shores,
Where, albeit among the impassable,
All the same cute sad hearts.
© Copyright: Elena Sokolova, 2015