In every church bell there is spite
In every red ribbon there is fire
In every young woman shivering
In every young man his own steed.
В каждом колоколе злоба
В каждой ленточке огонь
В каждой девочке зазноба
В каждом мальчике свой конь.
«I t is dusk now. With dew / The nettles are gleaming. / At the roadside I pause / Оп а willow leaning. Silver moonbeams here / On our roof are falling. / I n the distance I hear / А nightingale warЫing. Like а winter stove, all / Breathes warmth and gladness / And the birches...»
«Where the sunrise scarlet water / Sprinkles on the cabbage beds, / А young maple tree is sucking / At its mother's pale green breast.»
«Scarlet rays the rising sun weaves iпto the lake. / Woodcocks, wailing оп the boughs, pinewood echoes wake. There's а weeping oriole hidden iп а tree. / I аlопе doп't wish to weep — all is fiпe with me. Dowп the road at eveпtide you shall come, I know. / Iп the nearest rick ...»
«Like а mist, flood waters / Lick the river silt. / Shiny yellow halters / From the moon have slipped. Му boat slowly turning / Noses river banks. / Shocks of hay like churches / Line the field in ranks. With а mournful croaking / In the silent marsh / I hear woodgrouse call me ...»