Translate to:

In the hour of separation deaf to the sea,
With softly murmuring surf,
C of cloudy distant -

We are alone, with large worse,
His gray hair close
White shroud - sadness.

Protekut more moments,
Sink into the dark ages.

There will be new vision,
Will the old longing.

And sad shroud kroyas,
Indulging in secret grief,
Then we will not see, –

How to burn your milky belt!
How to fly to the native sea
silver star!

Most read verses Chukovsky:


All poetry (content alphabetically)

Leave a Reply