Translate to:

Another mysterious spring thrilled,
Transparent wind wandered through the mountains,
And deep lake was blue -
Baptist miraculous temple.

You were afraid of our first meeting,
And I prayed for the second,
And now once again a hot night, —
How low the sun was above the mountain ...

You are not with me, but it is not separation:
Me every moment - the solemn news.
I know, that you this meal,
That you can not utter a word.

Most visited Lermontov's poems:


All poetry (content alphabetically)

Leave a Reply