Люблю отчизну я, но странною любовь

Люблю отчизну я, но странною любовью!
Не победит ее рассудок мой.
Ни слава, купленная кровью,
Ни полный гордого доверия покой,
Ни темной старины заветные преданья
Не шевелят во мне отрадного мечтанья.
Но я люблю — за что, не знаю сам -
Ее степей холодное молчанье,
Ее лесов безбрежных колыханье,
Разливы рек ее, подобные морям;
Проселочным путем люблю скакать в телеге
И, взором медленным пронзая ночи тень,
Встречать по сторонам, вздыхая о ночлеге,
Дрожащие огни печальных деревень.
Люблю дымок спаленной жнивы,
В степи ночующий обоз
И на холме средь желтой нивы
Чету белеющих берез.
С отрадой, многим незнакомой,
Я вижу полное гумно,
Избу, покрытую соломой,
С резными ставнями окно;
И в праздник, вечером росистым,
Смотреть до полночи готов
На пляску с топаньем и свистом
Под говор пьяных мужичков.

Результаты (английский) 1:

Love the fatherland I, but strange love!Will not win her mind my.Nor fame, bought the blood,No full proud confidence of mind,No dark past cherished legends of greatDo not stir in me the welcome hands.But I love — for what, I do not know myself-Its cold steppes of molčan′e,Its vast forests, kolyhan′e,Flooding of the rivers it like seas;Dirt by love jumping in the cartAnd, eyes piercing the night shadow, slowMeet at the sides, sighing about accommodation,Trembling lights sad villages.Love the smoke spalennoj žnivy,Spending the night in the desert convoyAnd on a hill in the yellow fieldsCouple of the whitening of birches.With joy, many unfamiliar,I see complete threshing floor,Hut covered with straw,Carved with shuttered Windows;And in the evening feast, dewy,Watch until midnight is readyThe round with Ovation and SwishThe dialect of drunken Church.

Результаты (английский) 2:

I love the fatherland, but a strange love!
Not my will win her mind.
No fame, bought with blood,
nor full of proud confidence peace,
neither dark cherished legends of antiquity
did not move me gratifying dreams.
But I love - for what, I do not know myself -
Her steppes cold silence,
her boundless forests quivering,
flooding her, like seas,
by a country like ride in a cart
and, piercing gaze slow night shadow
meet along the sides, sighing about the inn,
trembling lights sad villages.
I like to smoke scorched stubble
in the steppe nochuyuschy train
and on the hills among the yellow cornfields
Chet whitened birch.
With joy, unknown to many,
I can see a full barn,
hut covered with straw
with carved shuttered window,
and in the feast, dewy evening,
Watch until midnight ready to
dance at a stamping and whistling
Under the voices of drunken peasants.

Результаты (английский) 3:

I love people abound, but странною love!
not wins its insane my.
neither fame, purchased with the blood,
nor a full proud confidence-building measures quiet,
nor dark antiques coveted преданья
do not lift in me brimming мечтанья.
but i love - for that,I don't know the -
its grassland cold молчанье,
its forests vast колыханье,
river flooding it, such seas;
Offroad Distance through love grasshopper in hay ride
and inflamed eyes slow nights shadow,
waiting for you at the sides,“but it’S absurd on the parades,
quaking lights sad villages.
i love light smoke appears спаленнои жнивы,
in steppe ночующии happy
and on the hill in broad daylight yellow turf
gostinnoj белеющих was bustling with.
the confessors, many unfamiliar,
i see full altar,
Viktoria Tokareva,Covered straw,
with carved wooden shutters window;
and on a holiday, in the evening росистым,
watch up to midnight ready
On on their altars with топаньем and whistling
under говор мужичков drunkards.