Pigeons on the roof is twisted pair,
Sleeps monastery garden.
Dreaming little Sarah
Clings to the window, catches the rays of the hand,
How weak blade of grass tender,
And do not know baby, that prepares
All froze in silent reverie,
From meditation cheeks pink,
Curly mane of golden curls
to the eyebrows.
On the lips smile rarely wanders,
A little link in the chain bracelet, –
All child like statue
these many years.
These blue eyes does not happen!
Bing dispelled singing charms:
The call pupils szyvaet
Raises a girl from the window,
as a feather, nun-sister.
Good voice whispers: “Sarah Crumb,
Time to sleep!”
The sun went down in a slow fire,
crescent of the moon slipped from behind the clouds,
And the night legends whispered Sarah