Love story in verses

Kobrin → Creativity of fellow countrymen → Marchuk Nina Grigoryevna

To fine svityazyanka

Tender wind over Svityazyyu blows
Also caresses, kisses you.
As I would like to be such hero,
That you fell in love with me.

As I want to become part of wind,
That this wind having embraced you,
To blow over you craze
Paints of Svityaz, smell of herbs.

I would like, native, here is eternal
To wash sparkling water,
To admire you it is infinite
And your svityazyansky beauty.

As easily and freely here it is breathed
As it is easy to walk on the ground here …
It is a pleading of love of mine it is heard,
It seems the darling to become.

Tender wind over Svityazyyu blows,
Canes are quietly whispered somewhere in the distance.
As I would like to be your hero,
I about it am silent, you allow to tell.

***

Svityaz, native, you hear
These pushes in a breast?
It with happiness, Svityaz,
That all at me ahead.

That ahead of separation
And pleasure of future meetings
That ahead all torments
And all this to preserve happiness.

What I have no right to lose
What so difficult found.
That lakes Svityazi glory
I to life, to love am revived.

***

There are I, uneasy Svityazyyu,
And a look my, directed afar,
Saying goodbye to the lake of heroes,
Dims I get down grief.

Your magic – fascinated,
In love with your scope to tears,
I look at the coast chained
Chains of gentle birches.

And everything to pain is lovely to me here
Also your waters are lovely to me.
Inhaled to me new forces
Your svityazyansky dreams.

I look at oaks century
Also I listen to songs of a wave.
Your svityazyansky force
That first tears of love.

Also your image to pain is lovely to me,
By you it is forever subdued,
Adam Mickiewicz will
Forever I am in love with you.

Saying goodbye to you, I am silent,
I do not know, we will meet again!
And having scented heart, alarm,
Trembles as a pine branch.

Thirty years later

Striking of a clock that day reminds,
That it is time as before to call,
But to raise a hand of forces is not enough,
Having picked up the phone, I do not dare to speak …

But to raise a hand of forces is not enough,
Having picked up the phone, I do not dare to speak.
It I which passionately loves,
The one whom at a meeting you do not spare.

I know that you will not fondle me,
Only wholly you will award with grief.
I know, never you will fondle,
But wholly only you will award with grief.

I call not to disturb any more,
Never to call any more,
Having forgotten, not to multiply the imagination
And itself, having left not to scold …

Having forgotten, not to multiply the imagination
And you it is rather to forget.
Stopped ringing, farewell, without damning.
Kohl will feel depressed, can call –
For me, as before, you native,
It is hard to break the dream.
For me, as before, you native,
And not just to forget the pain.
Stopped ringing, farewell without damning.
Otlyubil, not in forces to stop loving.

Well, why to me life now such?
Unless it is possible to live and not to love?
Well, why …

E.N.

Materials







Our partners