sleeps feather. plain expensive,
And lead fresh tarragon.
No other homeland
Do not pour into my chest my warmth.
Know, we all have the same fate,
AND, perhaps, all ask -
rejoicing, raging and tormented,
Life is good in Russia?
Moon light, mysterious and long,
weeping willow, shepchut poplar.
But no one at the shout of cranes
Do not stop loving field otchie.
And now, Now when a new light
And I touched my life destiny,
Anyway, I was a poet
Golden log hut.
in nocham, clinging to the head,
I see, as a powerful enemy,
As a stranger youth splatters novyu
My fields and meadows.
But all the same, novyu one pressed by,
I can sing feelingly:
Give me back home favorite,
All loving, die in peace!