РОДНЫЕ ПРОСТОРЫ Волною пены обливает нежно Тело Укачивая...

NATIVE SPACES

A wave of foam gently douses the Body
Rocking in a cradle of water,
Merged in the stream of the seaman dear,
Exuberant feelings of the Heart bared.

Of cotton wool bubbles embraced
Warmed by the sun tender, golden,
The ripple sheep will moisturize Our Soul, Body,
They will fill with ease their movement.

Where are you calling us, Moryushko dear,
What gave to comprehend, dreams?
What lies in the depths of Pereplut,
Where are the ships taking Mary?

And Vodyany'e drive Round Dances,
The depths of the secrets of the underwater never revealing
Azov places Taman open spaces
We are attracted by antiquity, our tradition.

Here we meet all the Soul Native,
Long forgotten in the mind We will refresh.
We hear the pages of mysterious names
In honor of the ancestors of the gray-haired Cossacks

High mountains relief patterns,
The splendor of the river valleys
Oak trees green spaces
Countries of Beloved Beauty.

And away from the eyes, gray dust
A shadow-wrapped dolmen stands.
Impregnated with power, power,
Having turned gray-haired antiquity.

Rays of light catch the eye
Filling Velesov Spring,
Raise the heat in the Temple of the Body
Heat around the world spill.

We say goodbye to you, Grandpa
So local dolmen rekli.
The languid separation will be short-lived
We will visit your possessions!