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I'm going to the valley. On the back of the head cap,
The gloved hand dark.
Far shining pink steppe,
Widely sineet quiet river.

I - carefree guy. Do not need anything.
Only to hear the song - heart sing,
Just be streamed coolness,
Only it had not bent to become young.

I go out to the road, marry derailed, —
How many well-dressed men and women!
Something whispered rakes, something they hiss spit.
"Hey, poet, Listen, weak or not you are weak?

On earth dearer. Fully floating in the sky.
How do you like valleys, so I loved to work.
Are you the village, you eh peasant was not?
Razmahnys oblique, Show your enthusiasm ".

Brother, pen is not a rake, brother, hair does not handle -
But oblique lines output at least where.
Under the spring sun, under spring Tuchke
They are read by people of all sorts, the.

Damn, I take off my suit English.
What, let braid, I'll show you -
I have my own way Do not you, I Do not close to you,
Village memory only weapon I do not value?

I transcend hole, I transcend bumps.
Good scythe in the morning mist
Show down dale herbal lines,
To read them horse and sheep.

In these lines - the song, in these lines - the word.
That's why I am happy in the thoughts of anyone,
That reading them can each cow,
Paying fees warm milk.

<1925>

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