Evening Ring By I. Kozlov Poem by Yuri Starostin

Evening ring
(w. I. Kozlov)

The evening ring, the evening ring!
How many thoughts it suggests
On the youthful days in the native land,
There I love, there is the father home.
And I am, to farewell with it forever,
Listen there the ring for the last time!
Now have not to I see the bright days
Of my deceiving spring.
And how much is not now there an alive men
The cheerful young men are in that time! ...
And their sepulchral sleep is strong;
Do not hear them the evening ring.
Lay to me in the raw ground!
The tune is sad over me
The wind will blow in the valley.
Another singer will go on it,
And certainly I am not, and he will
Go apart sing the evening ring.