Summer. To Omsk! July. Perfectly!
The sun is shining – so warm!
And in the morning there was a hail with bad weather,
And now it's so hot!
The countryside is beautiful,
Although there are many swamps here,
And the station what a miracle,
How many beauties in the city!
Oddly enough, with a touch of sadness
I'm going to town,
But eventually it will let go,
Though my family is waiting for me…
The greens, wind, we go famously,
Far away huge clouds,
And the reeds are waving to us quietly,
And the coolness of the woods
Suddenly smells in the window of the car,
Suddenly a bee will fly to us,
And along the stretch stations
Something strange glistens.
Midway. Blue clouds;
Crumbling, clouds
Curl all steeper,
Like nitrous milk.
Passengers are arriving,
An hour left-nonsense,
The clouds are so frightening here,
There was a thunderstorm somewhere!
It was raining – the window was closed,
Moving on. Dark.
The clouds with the severity of the swam,
Merged into a menacing blur…
We approach-splashes, drops,
Soon city, vanity,
Herons roam the swamp,
The edge of the bridge supports is visible…
17.07.17