Golden Little Cloud Had Night For Sleeping By Mikhail Lermontov
Golden little cloud had night for sleeping
on the bosom of the giant mount,
Early morning took it without sound
playing azure; and old mount's keeping
dewy trace in wrinkles like some present.
There is nothing else, there's mount only,
It is pensive deeply, it is lonely,
It is crying quietly in the desert.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Mikhail Lermontov
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