Page 24 - ELES BOOTUR (2)

2 0 PETR OGOTOEV

Old larches
Spread wide.
With easily coming off bark,
With golden cones
Tall larches
Turned into a dense forest.
A narrow cape
In the whirlwinded North
Reminds you of
Unbridled horses
Snorting loud.
This narrow cape
Was covered thickly
With stooping larches
Without branches,
With curved roots,
With soft, cracked bark,
Heart of the forest
With uneven surface,
With bending larches
Rolls down.
Seven mountain ranges
In the burning heat
In the stormy and windy
In the wild South
Remind you of
Seven racing stallions.
Moving gaze further,
You see blunt-nosed
Dead-standing trees,
No needle of coniferous wood,
No bright flowers.
Glancing the South,
You observe
Disordered ranks of birch
Lying endlessly
Here and there.
On the shore
Of a wonderful lake
Looking like a girl