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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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Оригинал

Kar-na... A bell that cracked
fire burnt in the meadows down
raging hounds straining at slips
and the horns that were howling
tracks were dodging, escaping to swamps
blood-red cranberries followed the tracks
It"s the best of the possible hunts
if a human is playing the game!..
Cloaks were tagged by the wind. To the mists,
to the heart of the swamps,
they were urging their steeds
amidst aspen, so damp.
Silver horseshoes
with titles of duke
rumpling orphrey:
golden
on blue.

Silly doe, silly doe,
a thief
there"s no point to run,
no relief
those who"re brave to rebel
all died
from our arrows-made rain 
you won"t hide
return
give yourself up
kiss the duke"s stirrup 

A horse"s creeping o"er the path
like a leaf from a maple falls down
a rowan bunch of the sunset
is thrown
to the face
We will pass as the night will soon pass.
They won"t make us come back.
Praise be to the princess from Past
We"ve paid off for her proud response.
Is there someone on Earth
Who"d remind 
how we"re called,
who would wish to discover
if we were or were not?!..

A young crane with a broken wing
a leveret in the deserted field
when the hounds cling to the track
and silently follow
it.

Forgive Ragneda, Lado. 

Disquieting reek of thawed snow smelling with ashes and blood.
The dawn was staring with eyes of the dead, and we"d become blind.
The river Polota was red due to blood and bodily white.
We"re receiving the death from the swards like an ardent delight.

The river Polota was red due to blood and bodily white
and crows came to corpses to celebrate the delight.

Bloomers" brownish cinnabar"s rubbed away long ago,
It was time for survivors
to envy the dead.
We were passing away to cleaved ice; no one"s calling for help;
no one lives in the world nowadays - to remember us all and regret.

Opal water was spitted
by glades, icy wells 
and a star rocked above
to farewell.

Autumn.
Reddish basting of cuttings
A breach in the sky
It was by clouds passed by.

A rippled surface of quagmire.
The stars will turn into rime.
The moon"s like a skull of the horse;
it bottomed the heart fully up. 
Hoofs are wading through mud.
Tomorrow I"ll wake up
being dead
to dance
under a grey rain	
and listen to thunder again.

Horsemen were rushing - but stopped
and drew their bow-strings - but dropped
taking me, failed to take	
making me dead, couldn"t make

A horseman on a steed and in armor
is not a leveret running
in arrowhead and in heather
(no matter that blood pouring down
is black on the silver!)
An eye of the swap watches gently
and sedge"s murmuring faintly,
and in the end of all ways,
a yellow birch leaf falls to lay.

A quagmire... and stars over it...
I"m sorry more for your steeds...

A chaus from the swamps
stares with its golden eyes
I stare at it
there"s no way to escape.
Heather rises
like a mauve-colored fence
to divide our ways
for this time. 

Something rings -
either silence,
or bow-strings,
or the scream tearing throat.
I"m alone. I am now and for ever alone.
I was pulled by the golden grass of an isle;
in the morning, an old man came in his boat.

Incantations and chants
wind like a web on a spindle
I was killed
I don"t care
a pine"s like a girl
and cries with its tar
through the window
a clew of the sun
a dandelion
is seen

Mora-Morana
go away
don"t wake my daughter up
your paws to elbows will be cut
don"t touch my flesh and blood
Daybreak, daybreak, bonny lass...

The aspen were weaving blood-red
to grey woolen yarn of the days
I was looking for friends who were dead
but the mists had devoured the tracks

I"m rushing to their voices
-	There"s flock of the cranes in the sky...
Here is their blood!
-	... there"s in autumn woods
ale fire flames of arrowwood.

Humpbacked crescent,
hide your horns!
Humpbacked crescent,
please, be calm!
I"ll stop 
	the wound up
		with my palm... 

The sun's serrated disk
is hung over the horizon
the birds are falling down
shot during the flight
Our stars are falling down
to nav, to nav
is there anyone in the world
to gather them?

The crossroads" like a handle of a sward
the rowan looks like it"s in fire
the time has come for you to take the word
for blood, and for tears, and for mire.

And for nailing your swards
into the lakes of our eyes
when you"d come to us before dawn 
being like thieves in the night

             Навие полочан побияху...

A bony paw of the night knocks at a squeaky louver
and the glass of the window reflects a child"s hand
none of you hasn"t dare looking at us for many years passing by
We"re just whispers, toughing, and wind near your cheeks.
We"re just whispers, touching, wind, and who"s the master of us?
We don"t know what love is, we don"t see disquieting dreams.

In the dust of the outskirts.
our steeds
don"t
leave any tracks

Milk and honey to ancestors" graves
they protect people"s hearth and their grain
We"re forgotten by them, we are navs
So, indeed, why to care for welcoming us?

You should fear us bearing grief.
(The fear is lashed round
the town like a rope)
and every day in the evening glow
dogs
howl

And we float like a yarn of the fog,
like a fire of candles blown down...
in the morning the tunes are made
for those who has died at night

Everything"s opal because of you
the darkness is over the horizon
but I remember the orphrey:
golden
and blue.

The horses - the red one and brown -
walk on warm slabs.
The swards are left at the clearing -
there's no use from swards for the dead.
The wonder seems impossible;
a hand gets so cold in a hand.
The wind is tousling the clouds
with careless tender.

Silly doe, silly doe,
don"t cry
just believe
and that"s all
soon, will jump 
to the door opened wide
the sun that"s like 
a foolhardy ball
hush don"t cry
I love you, my dear

Wind is dancing outside
Nav"s Passover"s outside
for leaving, the time has come

Tomorrow, the spring has come 

The light in the lashes is like a rainbow
children and birds are chirping
once you touch cherry blossom 
it humbly lies in your palm.
Our dreams will be soon met
in this humble April,
and the waters of the river 're so sweet:
a star
wasn't dropped
into it

My hand in your hand's like a river covered with ice.
Let the river flow to the sea.

- Little crane, do you hear
the thunder of spring?
Fly!

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Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души" М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"

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