I love motherland<but strange love. I do not win it,my mind.
No thank purchased with blood,
Not full of proud confidence in peace
No hoary antiquity cherished,
Do not move in I'am pleased dreams.
But i love what i do not know myself
Her fields of cold of silence,
Her boundless quivering.
Floods its like the seas.
Roads in the villages by love to ridein the cart
And slow piercing eyes night shadow
Meet on the sides dreaming of lodging
Sad tired lights of villages
Like smoke the scorched stubble
In on the hill amid the yellow cornfields couple whitened birch
And the feast in the evening until dewy look ready
On the dance with the stamping and whistling under the voices of drunken men.
М. Ю Лермонтов Родина перевод на английский
© Copyright: Евгений Шестернин 2, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116031803536
Свидетельство о публикации №116031803536
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