Lyudmila Purgina Poems

By Marina Severtseva

look russian variant
http: //www.stihi.ru/2011/08/24/1648
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I walked to pleasure. My way was glittering
With evening dew, red by its light.
And in my heart the voice was singing
The morning song, which's faded far.
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By Denis Baramzin

Here the people's speech is hardly heard,
And hardly you can see in the nettle thickets
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And again the rich is bad,
And glad also, the poor - humbled.
From the roofs of the stone mass
Of the buildings - the moon is shining.
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By Alexander Blok

The flyer is released to freedom,
Having swung his two blades, as a beast
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There's the boom in capital,
The verbal battle is seething,
But in the deep of Russia -
You'd feel eternal stillness.
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By Nikolai Alexeevich Nekrasov

The former day, about six,
I visited Sennaya*.
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By Boris Pasternak

Winter Night
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by Alexander Blok

The heady smell of march was in the moonlit circle,
The sand was under melted snow crispy.
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There are the three dark singers now:
Shikhmatov, Shakhovsky, Shishkov.
And there are the three wise men in front of -
Shishkov, Shakhovsky, and Shikhmatov.
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