Дикая певица - Пикник

Свою милую хилую усадил на плечо,

Напоил тихим воздухом — попросила еще.

Свою милую хилую вверх бросал и ловил,

Кроме дикой певицы никого не любил.

А поет тихим голосом просто так, без затей,

Только двери дубовые послетали с петель.

Только стекла потрескались, задрожали дома,

Так она, малокровная, спела песню одна.

Проигрыш

С ней, наверное, сладили бы и сожгли на костре,

Если б не была слабою, как трава в ноябре.

Вроде не надрывается и поет ни о чем,

Видно в голосе этом скрыта тайна еще.

He put his sweet sickly on his shoulder,

He gave me a drink of quiet air - she asked for more.

He threw his sweet frail up and caught,

He did not love anyone except the wild singer.

And he sings in a quiet voice just like that, without any fuss,

Only oak doors fell off their hinges.

Only the glass cracked, trembled at home,

So she, anemic, sang a song alone.

losing

They probably would have dealt with her and burned at the stake,

If it were not weak, like grass in November.

It seems not to strain and sing about nothing,

It can be seen that there is still a secret hidden in this voice.