Wild Rosehip grew in dusty soil,
By life's tough struggle hardened,
Yet undistinguished are its heart and soul
From rose in cared flower garden.

Wild Rosehip grew by roadside in the dusty stony soil,
The thorny shrub, by life's dull prose tough struggle hardened,
Being unaware that indistinguished are its heart and soul
From ones of rose, which lives in beauty of well cared garden.

But Gardener instilled in lonely bush hope's stalk - to cure its past loneliness and worry,
And blossomed it in Spring, to the surprise of self, with shine of tender fragranced glory ...
That morning wrote the bard his best love song, the song, with feelings passion fired,
- To fame the beauty of the one, to whom his heart belongs, by nature's miracle inspired.

Two people live inside my skin,
One's coward and one's bold.
One takes the blows under chin,
Another shuns the world.

They hate each other so much, being bound by the chain.
They are engaged in fighting match - the endless fight with no gain.
As such, I'm left to be their judge, the judge who feels the pain.

One tells me: "Live with no fears, be what you are with pride !".
Another whispers in my ears: "Shut up yourself and hide".
Two people live inside my skin,
And Lord one knows who will win ...

First Love, which lives in each of two young lovers trembling heart,
Being glorified by Shakespear's tragic story of the hope and pain,
Its essence is immortal, it blooms like rose: again, again, again,
Its burning thrill shines in the world, by sin and evil teared apart.

Two bodies's gentle ardent languor merge, filled with elation
Turns satisfaction of the carnal instinct's *******
Into the sacred hymn of the eternal nature's cycle regeneration,
And into solemn ritual of celebrating life's rebirth.

As long as rises sun, heralding coming of the new day's light,
As long as moon brings spirit to the shadow pit of botomless dark night,
- Oh earthly prose, I beg, please don't overthrow sentiment,
Expressed in copulating naked souls Love's holy sacrament.

Through words of feelings tinderbox I kindle spark of pain
To torch in tears cold stone hearts in high emotions flame.

The famous Mona Lisa smile, projects it mystery of earthly women's wisdom grace...
I saw its shadow, hidden in the eyes of mad and homeless female beggar's face.

Falling leaves, stirred by wind, fly around dancing slow
In the shadows of Autumn along park's crimson alley.
Though Wintery storms will be soon blowing snow,
Count of days towards Spring has already been tallied.