Going Hunting Vasily Bargachan Poem by Yuri Starostin

Going hunting
Rushed the fast deers have,
The skies are singing the taiga over,
In the storm, as in the white foam,
I fly like a blue wind.

Across the forest and across the field,
By the dense stars do a dust,
Calling me the taiga expanse have
There circling a sables are.

Who got up early, he saw a lot,
No wonder a people say,
To a birds a dawn I am to touch,
I'll be back with a prey back.

Fly on the bright wings of a happiness
On the very edge of a dawn,
There, where send out the bad weather
The bullfinches ablazes in the branches.