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Vot mtchitsja trojka udalaja Vdolī po dorozhke stolbovoj, I kolokolītchik, dar Valdaja, Gudit unylo pod dugoj. Jamshchik lihoj, on vstal s polnotchi, Emu vzgrustnulosja v tishi. I on zapel pro jasny otchi, Pro otchi devicy-dushi: "Vy otchi, otchi golubye, Vy sokrushili molodca! Zatchem, zatchem, o ljudi zlye, Vy tak razroznili serdca?! Teperī ja gorīkij sirotina!" I vdrug vzmahnul po vsem, po trjom. Tak trojkojteshchilsja detina I razlivalsja solovjom. |
The dashing trojka is storming by Along the mail road. And the little bell, a gift of the Valdaj hills, Sounds monotonously from the horseīs harness. The daring coachman, on his feet since midnight, Felt lonely and longing in the calm. And he started singing about bright eyes, About the eyes of the girl of his soul: "You eyes, bright-blue eyes, You have conquered the young manīs heart! Why, why, oh evil people, Have you separated our hearts? Now I am a bitter orphan!" And he swept over all the three (his horses). So the young boy was playing with his trojka And singing like the nightingale. |
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