1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Delibash
With the hostile camp in skirmish Our men once were changing shot,
Pranced the Delibash his charger 'Fore our ranks of Cossacks hot.
Trifle not with free-born Cossacks! Nor too o'er foolhardy be!
Thy mad mood thou wilt atone for-- On his pike he'll skewer thee!'Ware friend Cossack!
Or at full bound, Off thy head, at lightning
With his scimitar he'll sever From thy trunk!
He will indeed!
What confusion!
What a roaring! Halt! thou devil's pack, have care!
On the pike is lanced the horseman-- Headless stands the Cossack there!
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russ
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Remembrance
When the loud day for men who sow and Grows still, and on the silence of the The unsubstantial veils of night and sleep, The meed of the day's labour, settle down,
Friendship
What's friendship The hangover's faction, The gratis talk of outrage, Exchange by vanity, inaction,
Goblins Of The Steppes
Stormy clouds delirious straying, Showers of whirling snowflakes white, And the pallid moonbeams waning--Sad the heavens, sad the night Further speeds the sledge, and further,
The Night
My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle, Disturbs the velvet of the dark night's mantle, By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard, Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood —And run the streams of love, run, full of yo...
