Poems

The little tin solider of my son

The earth shakes under the nightingales,
Under the May basked rain,
But the tin soldier
In the eternal feat convicted.

He was probably sad Wizard
Use it to light, dislikes.
Ask the soldier: “Are you happy?”
And he took aim at you.

And in a change of holidays and weekdays,
In discordant march centuries
People laugh, cry, people
And he is still waiting for their enemies.

He waits and stubbornly biased,
When start fighting, pipe …
Ask him: “Do not you scared?”
And he took aim at you.

Lives Tin Soldier
The harbinger of large separations,
And damned control
Afraid to let go.

Lives my defender, involuntarily
The signal for battle slowly.
Ask him: “Do not you hurt?”
And he took aim at you.