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The last rays of sunset
Lie on the compressed field of rye.
Nap pink enveloped
Grass nekoshennoy landmark.

no wind, no screaming birds,
The grove - the red disk of the moon,
And the song fades reapers
Among the evening silence.

Forget the worries and grief,
Umchisy purposes without horses
The fog in the meadow gave,
Into the night and the moon!

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