Among the stones of the mossy-pond.
Though he is shallow, but keeps cool.
Shakes clouds in his pupil
And reflects the many colors of the garden.

Around him-only only greens African herbs,
Downy white bird feathers.
I'll leave the house in the morning.–
Our yard is not a yard, – 
colors are pandemonium:

The dandelions that have blossomed,
Cheerful dance around the house,
They look in the water, the song was started,
And someone in response to them – from the pond…

 There's an island in the middle.,                   
Among the sedge and leaves of marigolds, 
On a warm bump in the grass nook
Lives
             one friend of the frog.

I can see from the grass her barrel, 
And no rest for the mosquitoes, Yes flies:
Shoots straight fast tongue,
Beauty stroking her abdomen.

I told her "hi!"she said," Qua-qua." 
Will have a good swim full, and happy…
And so, until the leaves fly,  
We live like good neighbors, close by.

A breeze from afar primav,
Pumping dandelions, playing…
Well, the pond, of course, not the river, -
But a small (and its!)
piece of heaven!

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.

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