Artilleryman standing at the helm…

Artilleryman standing at the helm,
And the earth, scooping board sorrow,
Carried pressurized atmospheres per billion,
Ozverev, with all batteries into the abyss.
The volunteer-gunners, modest
and simple.
He did not see the danger of spurs,
He does not hear the words from the bridge,
Though believes in God tonight;
Do not know, that night, trembling all over skin
forests, lakes, parishes and schools,
That's srezhet, spryagaya in razbivku
From the pulpit to the wind thrown verb: zаw[live (Greek)]
Voice perosohshey howitzers,
And it was about to fall through the voice,
that the earth, Hurler sun Grooming
And then became the sun woo,
To this overnight gun rotates around the Japanese
And he, volunteer, right screw.

Что, not afraid to get in the brig,
Disarmament pray clouds,
And the universe groans from vertigo,
Housed in a hurry razmozhzhennyh heads,
She felt the dampness of their first,
They are inaudible to her, live.

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Boris Pasternak
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