Once again I visited ...
That piece of land, where I spent
two years in exile invisible.
Already ten years it is gone since then - and many
Changes in life for me,
And alone, obedient to the general law,
I have changed - but here again
The past embraces me alive,
AND, it seems, vechor still roamed
I'm in these groves.
Here, the disgraced house,
Where I lived with my poor nyaneyu.
Already an old woman there - it's behind the wall
I did not hear her heavy steps,
Neither her painstaking Watch.
Here wooded hill, above which often
I had sat motionless - and gazed
At the lake, remembering with sadness
other shore, other waves ...
Between the cornfields of golden and green pasture
It spreads widely blue;
Through its uncharted waters
Floating fisherman and drags
miserable seine. According bregam sloping
villages scattered - there for them
Skrivilasʹ mill, hardly wings
Tossing in the wind ...
To the borders
ancestral lands, in place that,
Where the mountain road rises,
pitted by rains, three pine trees
Stand - alone at a distance, two others
Close to one another, - here, when their past
I rode on horseback by the light of the moon,
Familiar noise of rustling their tops
I was greeted by. By the way
Now I went, and a pre
I see them again. They are all the same,
All the same, their, familiar rustling ear -
But about the roots of their obsolete
(Where once it was empty, naked)
Now Mlada Grove has grown,
green family; bushes crowding
Under the shadow of the children. And in the distance
It should be one of their sullen friend
How old bachelor, and around him
Still all empty.
Hello, tribe
Mladoe, unknown! not me
I see your mighty late age,
When pererastesh my acquaintances
And the old chapter of obscuring
By passerby eye. But let my grandson
Hear your noise Privetnoye, when,
With a friendly conversation back,
Cheerful and full of pleasant thoughts,
He will pass over you in the darkness
And me vspomyanet.
