Тропа Есть возле дома моего тропа о

Тропа

Есть возле дома моего тропа одна,
Задача выйти на неё весьма трудна.
Тропинку окружают заросли густые,
Зигзаги мозга, сердца моего она.

На фронт по этой тропке шёл отец мой милый,
По ней же бабушку свою нёс на могилу.
По ней дитя скоропостижно проводил,
Всем, кто оставил след здесь, памятник воздвиг я.

«В степи дорог так много, ям у придорожья,
В горах не заблудись, сынок, будь осторожен», -
По тропке проводив меня, сказала мать,
Дороги – что морщины на иссохшей коже.

Хожу по этой тропке падая, вставая,
Ищу дорогу, вновь ищу не уставая.
В местах чудесных, ярких много так дорог,
Споткнувшись, падаю, и страстно вновь шагаю.

Результаты (английский) 1:

Trail There are near my house trail one Task exit on it very hard. Path surrounded by thick thicket, Zigzags brain, my heart it. On the front for this trail ran my father dear, For it is his grandmother carried to the grave. For her child had died Everyone who has left a trail here, the monument erected I. "So many roads in the steppe, Yam, pridorož′â have Don't get lost in the mountains, my son, be careful " On the trail after me, "said the mother, The road is that the wrinkles on the withered skin. Go on the trail of falling, getting up, Looking for a way, once again seeking without tiring. In places of wonderful, bright lot so dear, Tripped, fell, and passionately again strolling.

Результаты (английский) 2:

The trail there near the house of my path alone, task to go to it is very difficult. The path is surrounded by overgrown with dense, zigzags brain my is heart. At the front on this trail went my father dear, As it is the grandmother her carried to the grave. According to her child suddenly spent, all who left his mark here, a monument raised me. "In the steppe road so many holes in pridorozhya, not to get lost in the mountains, my son, be careful," - According to the trail after seeing me, said her mother, roads - that wrinkles withered skin. I go on this trail falling down, getting up, I am the way, once again looking for without tiring. In places the wonderful, bright so many roads, Stumbling, falling, and passionately again step.

Результаты (английский) 3:

trailmy house is near the road oneto go at it very hard.the surrounding bush thickzigzag brain, my heart.at the front of the тропке was the father of my baby.it"s my grandmother carried to the grave.her child unexpectedly spentall those who left a footprint here a set i."the roads so many holes in придорожья,don"t get lost in the mountains, son, take care ".on the тропке of me, said the mother,the road is still that the wrinkles on the skin.go to the тропке falling up,looking for the road, again looking for without.in the field of wonderful, bright a lot of care.side fall, and is once again marching.