In Kremlinby Marina TsvetaevaThere, where millions of icon lamps are starringBefore the faces of the old ages,Where the evening ring is sweet to heart,Where the towers do like a heaven;There, where in shadows of air foldsTh...

I know - you are my award for yearsOf pain unbearable, of hard work,For my strict 'n' always good behaviorIn getting into the earthly joys;For that I've said no word to dear:"I love you", never ever told.For that I ha...

Знавал солдата одного,Который весел был - ни до чегоЕму, казалось, не было и дела:Он крепко спал, а по утрам, как жаворонок, пел так смело...В траншеях зимних, мерзких и холодных,Где не было уюта и тепла,Однажды пуля просвистел...

Топоры...От ударов - лес звенит...Каждый ствол...И от центра - эхо бежит,Как коней - топот...СокБежит вниз по стволам...Как слезы...Замирает желтая смола,Отразив в себеОбразы камней грозных...И останутся они...

Освободи, прошу, освободиТы мое сердце, бэби, дай свободу...Ведь ты не любишь меня больше, жизньМоя и мое сердце - стонутВ цепях, которые ты мне надела...Освободи, прошу, мне надоело...Тебе звоню - но нет тебя на месте...Где ты...

To Anna goldenlipped - To the all-Russian Redemptive Word, - Wind, carry my voice, pleaseAnd my heavy sigh also.Tell, please, the burning vault,About the eyes, which are dark of pain,And about the silent earthly bowAmidst t...

By Boris PasternakI grew up. Was as GanimedCarried away by foul weather, dreams.As wings the troubles widely raisedAnd tore me out of the fields.I grew up. And the woven twilightsAs veil had covered me all over.With a p...

In a hungry and such ill captivityThere's no day as day,year as year.When will fields bring up their yielding,When will the slave-people breathe freely?In summertime,as usual,in darknessThere rustle,standing straight or bending low...

Dortoire in spring (Dormitory) (возм-но не совсем правильное написание по-фр.)by Marina TsvetaevaOh, the spring dreams which were in a dortoire,Oh, the roving among the sleeping people,And the sound of steps, purposely loud,Dreams...

When poets behind the Lyre's labirinthWill stare their eyes:Then to the left there'll be river Ind,To right side - will flow Euphrat.Between them up to this and thatWith the simplicity yet shockingEdem, which's known by the leg...