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Caucasus under me. One in the sky
I am standing on the snow at the edge of the rapids;
Eagle, rising from a distant vertices,
Hovering motionless with me on an equal basis.
Henceforth I see the birth of streams
And the first thing a movement threatening landslides.

Here clouds humbly go under me;
through them, overthrew, noisy waterfalls;
Beneath the cliffs naked bulks;
There, below the moss skinny, dry bush;
And there are already groves, green canopy,
Where the chirping birds, where jumping deer.

But there already and people are nesting in the mountains,
And crawl sheep on zlachnym rapids,
And the pastor down to the cheerful valleys,
Where is racing in the shady banks of Aragvi,
And the beggar rider lies in the gorge,
Where Terek played in fierce joyfully;

Plays and howls, as a young animal,
Zavidevshy food from the iron cage;
And beating on the shore in a worthless feud,
And licking the cliffs of starvation wave ...
Votshte! no food to him, any consolation:
Thronged him menacingly silent masses.

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All poems of Alexander Blok

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