In hops slightly,
|
I ruled the forest.
|
Not tired yet -
|
Sang for health.
|
And I could sing
|
Songs are absurd:
|
"How I loved you
|
Black eyes…"
|
They trudged, then rushed, then trotted.
|
And the horse threw swamp slime in my face.
|
Only I will swallow saliva along with the mud,
|
I'll twist the damask at the throat - and tighten it again:
|
"Black eyes!
|
How I loved you…”
|
But - I finished off what I had in store for the future.
|
shook his head,
|
For the bliss to fly
|
And looked around -
|
And whistled already:
|
The forest is a wall ahead - the wall does not let in, -
|
The horses are spinning with their ears, they are fed back.
|
Where is the gap, where is the gap - you can’t see a damn thing!
|
They prick me with needles, they get me to the bones.
|
You are my root
|
Help me out, brother!
|
Where are you, dear, -
|
Why back?!
|
Rain - like poison from the branches -
|
Smell bad.
|
Tow my
|
The wolf dived under the groin.
|
Here is a drunken fool, here he poured his eyes!
|
After all, death has come, and not being able to run, -
|
An ace was stolen from my deck,
|
Yes, such an ace, without which - death!
|
I yell to the wolves:
|
"Take your ashes..."
|
For now, horses
|
Drives fear.
|
I move with a whip -
|
Beau twisted
|
And yelling besides:
|
"Black eyes!.."
|
Snoring, yes stomp, yes clang, yes dashing dance -
|
Dancing bells are played from an arc.
|
Oh, you are my horses, I will destroy you, -
|
Take out, friends, take out, enemies!
|
... From that chase
|
Even the hops are gone.
|
We are on a steep ridge -
|
On the same axles
|
In flakes of foam we are
|
The jets poured into the ridge, -
|
Rested, hoarse
|
Yes, they cleared their throats.
|
I'm slaughtered horses that they didn't let down,
|
Bowed to the hooves, to the very ground,
|
He threw the bag off the cart, led him to the occasion ...
|
God save you, horses, that I'm walking whole! |