Текст песни М. Ю. Лермонтов - Родина

I love my motherland, but strange love!
I do not win it my sanity.
Neither fame, bought with blood,
Neither the full confidence proud rest,
Neither the dark antiques cherished legends
Do not move in I am pleased dreams.

But I love - for what, I do not know myself -
Her cold steppes of silence,
Her boundless forests quivering,
Spills of its rivers similar to the seas;
Country by love to ride in the cart
And slow piercing eyes night shadow
To meet the sides, sighing about the inn,
Shivering lights sad villages;
I like to smoke scorched stubble,
At the steppes nochuyuschy train
And on the hill amid the yellow cornfields
Chet whitened birch.
With joy, unknown to many,
I see a full barn,
Hut, covered with straw,
With carved window shutters;
And in celebration, dewy evening,
Watch until midnight ready
On the dance with the stamping and whistling
Under the voices of drunken peasants.