Текст песни Афанасий Фет - Не первый год у этих мест

Not the first time in these places
I'm an hour I pass the evening ,
And every time I looked round about ,
And over the birches meet
All the same gilded cross.

Among the green density
Cornices decayed spots
At the bottom of the grave and crosses ,
And I - I think it is clear ,
What whispering dome sheets.

Another hesitation and breathing
Over the road dead ,
I aspire somewhere , hurrying away ,
But a meeting with silent coffins
Humbly celebrates the soul .