Oh, Moscow, Moscow! I love you, as a son,
As the russian man - so strongly, ardently and gently!
I love your grey hair's sacred shine
And love this cogged and placid Kremlin.
Thus vainly thought the alien sovereign,
That he can try to measure power
With you, the hundred-year giant,
To overthrow you. His striking
Failed to attain the desired goal:
You winced one time -he falled on ground!
And quiet was all universe...
You are the only heir of the glory -
The stately, living and imposing!
Москва, Москва... - пер. М. Ю. Лермонтова
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112011503253
Свидетельство о публикации №112011503253
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