my white room

i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.



one day we sat on the porch 
and i drew these ones, 

the skies, just like in my first 
picture book with poems

pine trees, my dad took them from the forest 
when they were smaller than a hand, ten years
later, taller than us, opaque sea-green, reaching
for the skies

our fragile birch 

silver poplar and his babies poplars
all around the glade, it's leaves are
like washi paper on one side, make
me use them for wrapping things

and fireweed, blooming and snowing

and i can stand still just turn my head
all around to see these beautiful things
no need to go anywhere for a while

вот через неделю уже осень. 

я вчера занималась долго, думала сколько времени сейчас
и увидела вдали дедушку и внука, он посмотрел на часы
и ответил ему, а я прочитала по губам - 18 - 19
немного до этого вдруг почувствовала такую
гармонию, счастье, когда все хорошо и внутри
и вокруг. бывает же. не забыть такое.


  1. oh... olga,

    your garden, trees, your dearest world,
    and your paintings...and the sky.

    i just remembered i was sighing every minute
    with wonder, 'oh, beautiful' ...'oh, wonderful'... my nagano.

  2. You are incredible, Olga, in just a few strokes you manage to capture each tree so sincerely ! I'm in awe. ox

  3. thank you so much, dear yukino, dear sonia

    your words mean a lot.

  4. these clouds remind me of William blake, his illustrations for the page-my pretty rose tree, ah sun flower, and the lilly...

  5. Your watercolors are marvelous, touching.
    Wish you a nice day from France.


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