I look up into the sunset sky
I see the red glow of dawn.
As in the fields take off with a run
With a cry of pity cranes
Dance your own.
On compressed wheat fields
They gather in a wedge
Relax on the warm South.
The wedge is getting full
It's late afternoon
And among the cranes flashes,
It's a cold shadow.
Watching them from the ground
At the stand " at attention & quot; stands
Quietly honor giving
Stirlitz himself and the mother...
Свидетельство о публикации №120010303076