In summer, the village

Childhood" Gumilev

I loved the big kid,
Honey smelling meadows,
Pereleski, dry grass
And between herbs bull horns.

Each dusty roadside bush
I shouted: "Im joking with you,
Go round me gently
And you will know who I am! "

Only wild wind autumn,
Proshumev, stop the game -
His heart was beating more blessed,
And I believe that I will die

Not one - with my friends
With the mother-and-stepmother, a mug,
And in the distant heavens
Suddenly I guessed everything.

I am for love and venture
The Storm military amusements,
That human blood is not holier than
Emerald grass juice.