Prisoner - Pushkin

I sit behind bars in prison raw.
Nourished young eagle in captivity.
My sad friend, flapping wing,
Bloody food pecks at the window,

pecks, and throws, looking out the window,
As if the thought of one with me.
Call me and cry their eyes
And utter want: "Come on, uletim!

We are free birds; it's time, brother, it's time!
There, where for the cloud is white mountain,
There, wherein become blue sea edge,
There, walk where only the wind ... but I!..»

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Boris Pasternak
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