kept point decide though

Hello! My name is Sergei. On the edge of a juniper grove Autumn, the red mare, walks in whispers Dropping leaves fr om its mane on the ground. And the clang of its hoofs is heard In the mist of the river banks Wh ere no hear on the grapevine goes round. But the wanderer, it raises the foliage On the roads and rustles it, Succeeding on foot particle by bit. And it kisses the wounds of the Christ On the mountain ash tree That are burning scarlet privet.com