I set out on a journey, open gaze,
Wind pressure elastic bushes,
Broken stone lay on the slopes,
Yellow clay scarce beds.
It cleared up in the wet autumn dolah,
Exposed ground cemetery,
But the dense mountain ashes in carriageways villages
Red zareet afar.
Here it is, my joy, dancing
And rings, rings, Bush lost in!
And away, away invitingly waves
your patterned, your color sleeve.
Who vzmanil me in the way familiar,
I smiled at the prison window?
Or - by a stone drawn by
Beggar, sing psalms?
Not, I'm going on a journey no one garden party,
And the land shall be easy for me!
I will listen to the voice of Russia drunken,
Rest under the roof of the tavern.
Zapoyu about whether their luck,
As I ruined youth in hops…
Above sadness Neve your pay,
Prostor will love thy-naveky…
Many of us - free, young, stately
Dies, not loving…
Adopt you in the vast expanses!
How to live and cry without you!
July 1905. Rogachev highway
