Winter in Moscow Vasily Ivanovich Surikov (1848-1916)

BALLAD OF A WINTER BALLAD

Under the power of a blinding, swirling blizzard,
The whole city is toy-like, unreal.
Houses are like gingerbread or jewelry boxes.
Snow Maiden has many worries during the holidays,
And Grandfather Frost has no end of tasks.
The whole city is a single metamorphosis.
Now filled with wondrous gardens.
Abundantly fed with magical fruits.

Look out at the snow crumbs from the window.
You can barely make out where our path is,
The one we used to walk to school,
And which reliably kept our funny secrets.

How long this blizzard has been going on!
How many wonderful and festive lines.
The lamp by the window flickers nervously.
This blizzard is a reality. Its not just an idea.

The ballad will go through hills and roads,
Its a pity that it wont improve things in this harsh world.
Poetry and nature! These are two aspects
Of magical light! I want to return –
To a realm where you can be a spirit without a body!
I want the ballad to fly freely –
Fly over the world like a joyful blizzard,
Without dreaming of any specific goal.

Because everyone is a prisoner of purpose.
The whole city is white – chasms and ravines.
Everything black has become boiling, joyous,
And theres plenty of happiness in the world, quite a lot...

Я ХОЧУ АНАЛИЗ А НЕ СТИХ!

а я наоборот

я дегенират
а то есть я пошутил я на самом деле диплодог