Two faces of Peryn

Ros River

At dawn, the reed does not breathe
Roach won't splash.
River Ros lazily licks
Stones, islands.

Ros River carries a steam room
Moisture across the fields
Along the mounds, where they fell asleep
Glade tribes.

Barely growing,
The rumble of the day is heard.
Ros flips through the wave of the century,
Grabbing me.

The forest sways in glass
In the scales of the waves
And come out of the fog
Plows and boats.

Ros, open your arms
Lure into the pool!
Somewhere here brothers grew up
Chek, Horeb and Kiy.

Sycamores in dawn blue
Wet through and through
And a dewdrop flows into Ros,
As to Russia Ros.