duminică, 7 martie 2021

MYSTERY MOM - by Joanna Fuchs

     


MYSTERY  MOM

by  Joanna Fuchs


Mom, your love is a mystery:
How can you do it all?
You’re always there with the perfect fix
For my problems, big and small.

Your love protects me day after day,
So I’m fearless, safe and sound.
I feel that I can do anything
Whenever you’re around.

Mom, your love is a mystery,
I haven’t got a clue
Why you love me all time,
But I’m very glad you do!





luni, 1 martie 2021

GHIOCELUL - de Valeria Mahok





GHIOCELUL

de Valeria Mahok


Din clăbucii de zăpadă,
Un ghiocel bucuros
Scoţând capul spre lumină,
Se laudă copilăros:


- Uite aşa, cât sunt de mic,
Într-un picior mă ridic,
Mă lupt cu zăpada rece,
Nici o floare nu mă întrece,


Sunt un mărţişor râvnit, 
Primăverii, 
Poarta florilor deschid.








GHIOCELUL - de Lazăr Adina

 



GHIOCELUL

de  Lazăr Adina


 Floare mică și plăpândă
Ca un fulg de nea
Delicat ieși din zăpadă
Să vestești: “E primăvară !”

 Iarna cât a fost de lungă
Ai dormit sub neaua groasă
Tu ne readuci speranță
Și un zâmbet pe obraz.

 Floare mică, uimitoare
Iarna aspră o alungi
Și-n alaiul primăverii
Tu pornești la drum.

Te-așteptăm cu nerăbdare
Floare albă, minunată
Când apari e sărbătoare
Bun venit, micuță floare ! 









luni, 15 februarie 2021

SA DESENAM SI SA COLORAM - PRIMAVARA - GHIOCELUL (FISA LUCRU)

 


(1) ДЕТСКИ УЧИТЕЛИ





ACTIVITATI CREATIVE - LUCRAM CU LINGURI (de lemn /plastic) - HARTIE - BALOANE

 


Грибочки-гармошки




Prace plastyczne - Stylowi.pl - Odkrywaj, kolekcjonuj, kupuj






Origarden: 1 DECEMBRIE - ZIUA ROMÂNIEI





Origarden: 1 DECEMBRIE - ZIUA ROMÂNIEI







creativitatea in viata ta: Linguri de lemn pictate





Las cositas de Piluca
Presenteie com artesanato | Arte Amiga




Primavera



Kelebek sanat etkinligi



No. 36


Silly and simple balloon elephant cards! A great craft for kids this summer!






THE BUTTERFLY - by Skipwith Cannéll

 


 


THE  BUTTERFLY 

by Skipwith Cannéll


One day in the lean youth of Summer, a 
butterfly was born upon the earth. To a brief 
day of beauty she was born, 
and to a long night.

Timidly her purple wings unfolded in 
the kind warmth of the sun. When they 
had grown strong, she began to flutter 
hither and thither, from flower to flower, 
a wingéd dream flitting as perfumes called her,
 from dream to dream.

At last, when the dark fingers of the night were clutching 
at the fields, from the brief stillness 
of twilight arose a brief summer 
storm. 
Only a few puffs of wind ruffled the grass, 
only a few 
growls of thunder silenced the birds, 
only a few warm drops of rain pattered 
among the trees. Then the storm passed and 
the sun shone over the wet earth as a sweetheart shines through her tears with 
promise of pardon.

But the warm wind had blown the butterfly
 against a twig, so that her wings were broken;
 and the soft summer rain had crushed her 
to the earth, so that she died. But there had 
been one passing, whose dreams were in 
music, and he had felt her beauty in his own. 
And he spun a web of harmony from the 
rainbow of his sorrow and the skeins of her 
beauty, so that men who had lost their dreams
 were snared in his net, and women whose 
hearts were buried wept for the death of a butterfly....