fireworks bledneet; late, late,
Crude night not far!
With peaks of the Caucasus quietly, ugly
Polzut, as serpents, clouds:
Game rambling give birth,
The failures come stuffy,
Hurting thorn bushes,
Drop pearls on sheets.
creek rolls, - turbid, Gray;
It foam gushes out of the grass;
And it shines through the fog cave,
As the eyes of a dead head.
rather, lone traveler!
Close the general Bourke,
The burden occasion Tension,
Get Remyannoy pletkoyu.
You in the trail had not rushing
Neither the mountain spirit, nor wild beast,
But, if you can pray,
That would not hurt - now.
