A collection of poetry from Russia.

A Little Bird

In alien lands devoutly clinging 
To age-old rites of Russian earth, 


I let a captive bird go winging 
To greet the radiant spring's rebirth. 

My heart grew lighter then: why mutter 
Against God's providence, and rage,


When I was free to set aflutter 
But one poor captive from his cage!

A. Pushkin  A. Pushkin

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