Текст песни Александр Александрович Блок - Летний вечер

The last rays of sunset
Lying on the field of compressed rye.
Nap pink embraced
Grass mowed.

Neither the breeze nor the cry of a bird
Above the grove is the red disk of the moon
And the reaper's song freezes
Among the evening silence.

Forget worries and sorrows
Race without a goal on a horse
Into the fog and into the meadow far
Towards the night and the moon!