Autumn during the siege of Ochakov
Lowered grey EOL Borea*
With chains of cast iron caves;
Scary wings expand,
Hero waved in the light;
Drove herds air blue,
Thickened the mists in the clouds,
Devnull has cloud and Sat,
The rain started and rose.
Already the blush of autumn is
Golden sheaves to the floor,
And luxury of the grapes asks
Greedy hand to wine.
Already the herds are crowding the bird,
Silver feather grass in the steppe;
The rustling red and yellow leaves
Scattered all over the trail...
Fire, waves not extinguished,
Ochakov walls eats;
In front of them, Ross invincible
And the coldness in green laurels shakes a;
Grey storms despise,
On the ice, in ditches, on thunder flies,
In the waters and in the flames thinking:
Either he dies or he wins.