Literature
In the spring on the river, the ice floats...
In the spring on the river, the ice floats,
He doesn't sleep at night, he gnaws at ice floes,
The shore waves, pushes,
Gently and merrily, the death of winter,
And spring is young, it breathes with the wind,
It warms with Warmth, the whole world is cold,
It falls asleep, and the snow melts,
And the lanterns are sharp, at the houses,
They cross themselves, and I passed under them,
Fractional light, was blinded,
Brightness is fixed, before the darkness,
Eternal goodness, in melting and puddles,
With gray trees mixed in,
Their trunks have not moved away, from the winter cold,
Mercy from the warmth, the fortress is crumbling,
And the unwelcoming winter is backing away,
I also marveled at the floating ice floes,
And an owl flew over them, hooting,
Grey feathers, bristling,
The warlock cat will not pass,
I'm going to crawl through the icy conditions.,
In the cold of the night, I'll walk quietly,
The ice will break, like a dead man floating,
And the insomnia of winter will converge with
