Yuri Starostin Poems
About Motherland By Rasul Gamzatov
I could not to understand, but now I do -
And to me any translation is need not,
About what, flying out, an autumn flock
So bitter crying,
So sadly sings.
Earlier it seems to me: a sadness have a no reason
At the leaves lying in the dust of the roads.
There about the native branch their sorrow and grieve -
Now I understand,
And previously I couldn't do it.
I did not know, did not know, but understood over the years,
Already with the quite grey- white head,
What about the hewed out stone from the rock
Aibolit By K.I.Chukovsky
Kind doctor Aibolit!
He is sitting under a tree.
Come to him to be treated
And a cow and a wolf,
And a beetle, and a worm,