Poems in English: about everything. Dmitry Guéorguiévitch Borrony

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Название Poems in English: about everything
Автор произведения Dmitry Guéorguiévitch Borrony
Жанр Поэзия
Серия
Издательство Поэзия
Год выпуска 2019
isbn 978-5-532-09065-1



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      Yes here it, is absorbed by fire.

      Fire suffering of people, Fire of artillery volleys;

      Ruin of that war brought with itself, About! – the Cruel people:

      There are they at each other, for war, the Brother kills the brother;

      About! – People! As the tyrant is tough,

      He is cruel to the people:

      It is ruthless to them, to all, Only gold of money recalculation;

      There is no love beautiful creation, in it, Only hunger in it:

      This hunger is terrible it to people, He the power is eager the power;

      Hungry and heartless it, It without warm creation:

      And people? What they? Live,

      In battle with the tyrant perish;

      About people! How you were not lucky?

      In battle of fratricidal war:

      All of you are heroes of the people, all of you are heroes of the country;

      You are people of the people, you are people of mother, the earth:

      About the city

      Our native is fine the city, Is fine and beautiful.

      In it beauty of love of people, In it our pride, it is our home.

      Love, it is honored, He is our hero, the hero – the soldier.

      He won in battle – soldiers, And was not overthrown, our hero.

      My city, it is the blossoming garden, my city, in it our sports group.

      The team of soccer in it is, In it our pride, our honor.

      The flame of patriots burns here eternally That life was given in war cruel.

      To brutal that war That memories forever – at the people.

      Do not forget that immortal feat That was recently, was long ago.

      That life was given by the immortal soldier That we on a vein are fated to remember.

      In it beauty, in it streets are beautiful, Here the park beautiful is.

      There is a purity, here the house our clear, rest Souls – my home.

      Open spaces here – steppes far, Open spaces here – love big.

      There are immense open spaces, Here the house of the people, our home.

      About season

      The fall at sunset is fine summer, the fall a wind rustle Is fine.

      It is fine and loved, Rest and silence, rest and silence.

      In a sunlight decline, Everything withers, everything burns.

      Leaves are fine fall down, they lands to us cover the Carpet.

      Trees rustle, fall down leaves, the stream – the prankish, the small child Rustles.

      He runs quickly on the steppe far, he Rustles in a distance of the steppe wide.

      Here night, continuous silence, Rustles nights, its calm.

      The haze in calm deep is fine, the haze, rest and silence Is fine.

      Only the calm and a smooth surface – rustles a grass, Rest and silence, harmony and joy.

      Love fine a pacification, Love of fine silence – rest.

      The fall in the twilight of summer is fine, the fall Is fine, foliage rustles.

      Also falls down fine yellow a blanket, Earth is covered with a fine blanket.

      About war

      Year the forty first came, War, came war.

      To our house it knocked, And all whom could visors.

      We engaged, in fight cruel, Bloody fight, deadly fight.

      We fought to death, For our home.

      The suffering and hunger expected us, In that war, cruel unvarnished.

      Bloody – the scarlet blood sprinkled Tears – mothers, lands.

      We fought to death, up to the end, we had a Siege of Leningrad.

      But we did not give up on favor to the enemy, We overcame him in the forty fifth year.

      Victory! Everything, the end to war, the marshal reviews Victory Day parade.

      There are heroes along Victory Square, there Are heroes, our grandfathers and fathers.

      There passed years, from that terrible fight of a century, our Heroes, we remember them.

      And every year, we remember and we celebrate heroes of that war.

      That the stomach was not regretted, in a victory of that war.

      Thank you, fathers and grandfathers is veterans, Thank You, that life we were given.

      Thank you that the sun did not go out, Thank You, for everything.

      About love

      The love is fine, the love is wished by us!

      The love, serene pure beauty is fine.

      The love, beauty of flowers is fine, the love, small stalks of scarlet roses Is fine:

      Beauty of love – fine beauty, Love fine – mothers lands, Love of the cleanest – spring water, Earth fine – the homeland of the earth.

      My fatherland, my homeland!

      As you are fine and loved.

      My fatherland, my fatherland, my Boundless dwelling:

      Seasons

      Winter – Spring, Beauty it!

      Summer – Fall, gold it!

      Winter and Fall, gold times!

      Hot summer, Spring of Rozhn!

      Beauty of the nature surround us, they Are fine!

      In love, breath joyful luminescence of a human soul!

      About! – As we are unfair to you, the nature mother;

      We poison and we destroy life your, your and our life.

      You are mother of all on this evil planet, You are our mother, you are mother earth, you are our mother!

      I love, I love, I love you.

      I love you, fine purity of soul, I Love you, fine full purity, Love air, unearthly, Love water, transparent true purity of soul!

      Russia

      Russia is wide! Your open spaces are big!

      I love you with all the heart!

      Fine, true purity.

      Beauty of a meadow, field and river, Beauty fine woods!

      Grumble of streams, Fine and clean.

      Fields, meadows, the woods are dense, the sun gold is radiant, to the Evening dawn rustle foliage, Rest and withering, silences.

      Dawn of love, rising beams sun, Love fine, dawn of new life.

      All wake up around, trees, birds, animals, Everything a song sing matins, fine matins of a dawn.

      Love, fine they sing, Love to a home.

      Beauty fine, purity of soul!

      To love of beautiful mother of soul.

      We eulogize our home, We love our earth, without it прикрас.

      Our house, our wood, fields and the rivers, We love them,