Winter evening

Winter Peter

I won't see winter Peter
Through the eyes of Pushkin, all the more so:
And now the air is not motionless,
And the city looks different.

But memory cherishes
Runners creak on Petrogradskaya,
And the sun that shines without warming
And the wind whistle dashing.

And I want to feel again
Blizzards of heartless temper
Frost strong embrace
Fluffy frost on the fences

I want snow women to be molded,
And had fun with ice
So that the icicles beat against the asphalt,
Without touching pedestrians

To meet a cold morning
Pink-cheeked girl
So that the cannon hit every noon.
Not fighting. Singles.