Весна Елена Благина Ещё в домах пылают печки...

Spring
Elena Blagina

Even in the houses of the stove are ablaze
And late the sun rises
We also have on our river
Walk calmly through the ice;
More to the shed for firewood
You will not go straight
And in the garden under the trees
With a broom slumber snowman;
We are all warmly dressed -
In sweatshirts, cotton pants ...
But still spring signs
In everything, in everything is already visible.
And in how the roofs have warmed
And like the sun in sight
Dripping, falling, singing,
Got to, as in delirium.
And suddenly the road became wet,
And the valenki are full of water ...
And the wind is gentle and prolonged
Brewed on the south side.
And sparrows shout each other
About the sun, about his beauty.
And all the fun freckles
Sit on one nose ...

SPRING
Andrey Bely

All dried up. And there are kidneys too.
Lilies of the valley, poppies will soon bloom.
Here clouds float like lambs.
Louder, louder spring news.
I am alarmed by the annoying squeak:
Crouching, grouchy Thecla,
hanging over the street at risk
rubs window panes.
Then clean the lime with a knife ...
There are cups of poison ... There is cotton ...
The chest is full of April delight.
The wind turns the dust outside the window.
Windows wide open - and screaming, talking,
and the flower sways the stem,
and floor-goers go to the courtyard
barefoot to knock out furniture.
The cat crawled out and sits at the tank,
Washed velvet foot.
Here is a boy in a chintz shirt,
having run, launched in it the grandma.
In the sky the light of the evening lights.
Feelings again, as before, fiery.
Heaven is all blue and blue,
Clouds like wavy, wavy.
In the blue distance my eyes wander.
All earthly aspirations are so pitiful ...
Little man in the backyards on the yard
with thunder brings heavy beams.
 
After flood
I. Bunin

It rained, April is warming,
All night - fog, and in the morning
Spring air bleats
And soft smoke turns blue
In the distant clearing in the forest.
And silently boron slumbers green,
And in the silver of the forest lakes
More slender than his columns,
Still fresh pine crown
And gentle larches pattern!
 
I'm waiting
M.P. Chekhov

I'm waiting for the snow to melt
And fly flies everywhere,
And announce overgrown breg
Croaking frogs,
When lilac blooms,
Peep lily fragrant,
And freshen up the hot day
A storm of unexpected, fertile.
I'm waiting for the flute in the fields
Suddenly sings unpretentiously,
And her gloomy crake
Will respond by jerking fearfully.
I wait, and the snow is stronger
Severe frosts crack ...
Oh summer, where are you? Where are the dragonflies?
Where is the vocal nightingale?

Freckles
V. Orlov

Spring passed
On the edge
Through the spring
Blue dreams
And quietly shone
Freckles
On the girl's face
Spring
It was a girl
In a green skirt,
Blue dew ringing.
And envying
Redhead girl
Unnoticed
The ground sighed.
And for good reason
On this vernal morning
Where light legs
Gone,
Dandelions bloomed,
As if
Golden freckles
Of the earth.

Raging hollow water
I.A. Bunin

Raging hollow water
Noise and deaf and protrazhno.
Rooks migratory herds
Scream and fun, and it is important.
Black mounds are smoking
And in the morning in the air heated ...
Thick white couples
Warm with light and heat.
And at noon, puddles under the window
So spread and shine ...
What a bright sunny heat
In the hall bunnies tremble.