Over the wooded banks,In the hour of evening silence,Noise and songs under the tents,And the lights are spread out. Hello, happy tribe!I recognize your bonfires;I myself at a different timeHe escorted these tents. Tomorrow with the first raysYour will disappear.You will leave - but for youDo not go your poet. He's a wandering placeAnd the leprosy of antiquityI forgot about rural blissAnd home silence.
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