Sunday… (Galina Belysheva)

Sunday. Rain on the roofs Shut up, lover. Hush.Listen to the rustle of leaves,Surprise colouring Fox,And hear the rain osennemu on the fly, the regret That in his heart,so much sadness.Be patient, she let go.Say, got wet feet?It is not a reason for alarm.Hurry in comfort,the Bitterness of the quarrel yesterday,You’ll forget by the fireplace.Even bitter rabenasolo will be sweeter than honey,With a cold shower will nepogodina latest cloud.The rustle of leaves Quiet Look