Plants are silent witnesses of time, the embodiment of life and fragility. Their slow growth and decay reflect the cyclical nature of existence, and each leaf and flower tells its own unique story. These poems are an attempt to hear their quiet voice, to see the world through their eyes, and to capture the fleeting beauty they bestow upon us daily. There is no didacticism or moralizing here, only sincere admiration and reflection on nature, inspired by the green kingdom.
The first sprout
The earth held a secret beneath itself, and now, breaking through the veil to the light, a green sprout, timid and alive, greets a world filled with foundations. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of heaven. In it lies the power of life, trepidation, and peace. And a gentle wind whispers, like a song, that the world is beautiful and vast.
Willow over the river
The willow bows, weeping over the water, its branches a slender figure of sorrow. In the mirror-like surface, in the silent silence, the moon's pale figure is reflected. It preserves the silence of age-old legends that the river whispered to it, and in the lace of green, gentle showers, a distant melancholy is hidden. And it seems as if the willow itself is a melancholy, for days gone by, for the warmth of spring. But in this sadness there is its own beauty, and echoes of a long-ago silence.
The Orchard of Forgotten Apples
An abandoned garden, where time lingers, And apples rot beneath the leaves. Only the wind in the branches speaks softly of youth gone beyond the river. Here, every fruit is a love story, And every leaf a trace of memories. In the shade of the trees, in the twilight of silence, The forgotten garden holds the memories of years gone by. A musty aroma, tart and thick, Fills the air like a sweet dream. And it seems as if the garden is alive, Waiting for the moment to return to the world. But the garden is silent, and the apples rot, And only grass grows among the ruins, And long shadows float across the garden, And silence, like a shroud, covers everything.
Sunflower
In the fields where golden grain ripens, a sunflower stands, mimicking the sun. It catches the light, knowing neither malice nor envy, simply enjoying life. Its face is a huge, warm circle, reflecting the entire world. And each petal, like a faithful friend, holds within itself a heavenly, pure face. It reaches out to the sun, day after day, absorbing strength and warmth. And it seems not at all mute, but whispers of love and spring. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the sunflower does not bow its brow, but proudly watches the whole world fall silent, and waits for a new day to dawn.
Rose in the Fog
In the fog, a rose, a ghostly flower, its bud conceals its delicate bloom. Only its fragrance, like a quiet, sweet sigh, reminds one of summer gone by. It stands, shrouded in mist, a symbol of mystery, sadness, and love. And it seems unearthly, waiting for the rains to clear. Its thorns are protection from adversity, and its petals are like a velvet shroud. And in this fragility, in its beauty, the soul's beautiful call is hidden. And even in the fog, in the gray shroud, it shines like a bright light, bringing joy and spring to the world, and promising new, warm years.
Autumn maple
The maple tree in autumn, like a flame on a hill, glows with foliage, crimson and golden. It bids farewell to the warm summer day, whispering a song of peace to the wind. Its branches, like arms, are raised to the sky, holding a final dream frozen in them. And the leaves, like birds, are torn off, swirling in a waltz, quietly and lightly. A musty aroma, tart and sad, fills the air like a quiet moan. And it seems that the maple is completely tired, waiting for winter sleep to come. But in this sadness there is beauty, and in this withering – peace. And the maple stands, like a wise soul, and looks at the world from its height.
Lily of the valley
In the damp and cool shade of the forest, the lily of the valley blooms, delicate and simple. Its bud, like a fearless droplet, holds within itself a fragrant, sweet heat. It whispers of love and spring, of purity and beautiful dreams. And it seems not mute at all, but brings joy to the world in the heavens. Its foliage is like an emerald carpet, with sunbeams dancing across it. And its fragrance, like a delicate elixir, captivates the heart, as if in a sweet cry. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the lily of the valley shines like a bright light, and brings joy and spring to the world, and promises new, warm years.
Oak
There stands an oak tree, majestic and gray, a witness to many storms and changes. It remembers a time when peace reigned in the forests, and there were no problems. Its bark is like a map of past years, imprinted with all the scars. And in every branch lies the secret of wisdom, and in every leaf, pockets of echoes. It provides shade on a sultry summer day, and shelters from rain and wind. And it seems not at all silent, but whispers of love and dawn. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the oak proudly looks to distant lands, and gives the world strength and peace, and promises new times.
Cornflower in the rye
In the golden rye, like a blue island, a cornflower blooms, modest and simple. It catches the wind like a butterfly, and whispers of love and peace. Its bud, like a drop of heaven, holds dreams and inspiration. And it seems completely weightless, and gives the world joy and insight. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of the sun, absorbing strength and beauty. And in this fragility, in its love, the soul's beautiful dew is hidden. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the cornflower shines like a bright light, and gives the world joy and spring, and promises new, warm years.
Tulip
In the spring garden, bright and vibrant, a tulip blooms, proud and beautiful. It catches the sun, mischievous, and whispers of love, so playful. Its bud, like a glass cup, holds nectar and fragrance. And it seems so light, and gives the world joy and sunsets. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of heaven, absorbing strength and peace. And in this beauty, in its wonders, a beautiful call of the soul is hidden. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the tulip shines like a bright light, and gives the world joy and spring, and promises new, warm years.
Bell
In the green grass, quiet and simple, a bellflower blooms, tender and vibrant. It whispers of love and peace, and brings joy and spring to the world. Its bud, like a drop of dew, holds dreams and inspiration. And it seems so light, and brings joy and insight to the world. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of the sun, absorbing strength and beauty. And in this fragility, in its love, the soul's beautiful dew is hidden. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the bellflower shines like a bright light, and brings joy and spring to the world, and promises new, warm years.
Linden
In a green garden, a quiet linden tree stands, covered in dense foliage. It gives coolness and linden, and whispers of love and peace. Its flowers are like stars in the night, holding nectar and fragrance. And it seems so light, and gives the world joy and sunsets. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of heaven, absorbing strength and peace. And in this beauty, in its wonders, lies the soul's beautiful call. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, the linden tree shines like a bright light, and gives the world joy and spring, and promises new, warm years.
Fern
In the depths of the forest, where darkness and coolness reign, the fern grows, ancient and simple. It remembers a time when nature was mighty, wild, and vibrant. Its foliage, like lace from dreams, holds secrets and legends. And it seems completely wordless, whispering of love and victories. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of the sun, absorbing strength and peace. And in this beauty, in its love, lies the soul's beautiful call. And even at the hour when sunset burns, the fern shines like a bright light, giving the world joy and spring, and promising new, warm years.
Mint
In the garden, near the house, humble mint grows, giving coolness and peace. Its foliage is like a delicate chamber, holding within itself a fragrant, sweet heat. It whispers of love and spring, of purity and beautiful dreams. And it seems as if it is not silent at all, but brings joy to the world in the heavens. Its aroma is like a delicate elixir, captivating the heart, as if in a sweet cry. And in this fragility, in its love, the soul's beautiful dew is hidden. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, mint shines like a bright light, and brings joy and spring to the world, and promises new, warm years.
Heather
On the moorland, in the distance, heather blooms, a purple carpet. It whispers of love and longing, and brings joy and space to the world. Its flowers are like dewdrops, holding dreams and inspiration. And it seems so light, and brings joy and insight to the world. It reaches for warmth, for the rays of the sun, absorbing strength and peace. And in this beauty, in its love, lies the soul's beautiful call. And even at the hour when the sunset burns, heather shines like a bright light, and brings joy and spring to the world, and promises new, warm years.