In memory of Nikolai Rubtsov

[tchaika]

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Star fields in the mist of icy
Stopped and looked in wormwood.
Already on the clock rang twelve,
And sleep enveloped my home ...

Star fields! In moments of turmoil
I remembered how quiet over the hill
It burns on the golden autumn,
It burns over the winter with silver ...

Star field burning, has not disappeared,
For all the troubled inhabitants of the land,
His affable ray touching
All cities have risen in the distance.

But here, in the mist of icy,
It goes brighter and fuller,
And I was happy until the white light
Burning, burning star of my fields ...
1964
Nikolay Rubtsov