I Prefer The Gorgeous Freedom

I prefer the gorgeous freedom,
And I fly to lands of grace,
Where in wide and clear meadows
All is good, as dreams, and blest.
Here they rice: the clover clear,
And corn-flower's gentle lace,
And the rustle is always here:
"Ears are leaning... Take your ways!"
In this immense sea of fair,
Only one of blades reclines.
You don't see in misty air,
I'd seen it!It will be mine!

by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

Comments (1)

its sad how the world is...but its those little lights of good ppl who try that make sure it isn't all bad. I enjoyed your poem.