Poems about the country house are cool short: 50 beautiful poems with meaning ✍

Popular poems about the cottage

But for some reason by night
No urine at all
Read to me dear
Love poems.
Or maybe this cottage
And failure at all
And how not to forget us
All the charms of love.

* * *

My home cottage
My lovely garden
Well, and to them in addition
Lots of worries.
But I'm not discouraged
I love work so much
Watering a song
Sow and field.
So that seedlings grow
And the flowers bloomed
I'm glad to work
Though until the dark.
I know that in the cottages
There are many of us in the country
With faith in luck
Delves into the ground.
To work black
We overcome
Perky song
I propose to sing.
Work argues with her,
Life is easy with her
And the crop will double
For sure!

* * *

They can't sit at home again
The spring time has come.
Sometimes nature seems angry:
That rain, frost, and then heat.
Everything is changeable in nature
As in the soul, and on weekdays,
And only to summer residents in the people
There is no native land of his own.
They are from morning to night
Ready to bow to the ground
And even if they don’t have urine,
Able to live for so many years.
They can't sit at home again
Like today and yesterday
Even though the window is already angry,
Seeks to hundreds of God's army ...
It’s hard to say goodbye to the garden,
And with a garden in their native land,
And yet, summer residents among the people
Ready to burn, not smolder ...

* * *

Finally, we are in the country.
Every day is lucky
We walk and sleep
As much as we want.
You don’t have to rush anywhere
We have everything in the garden -
Pick and eat strawberries
But, without noise and without screaming.
In general, we live gloriously,
We don’t walk, we chew.
Bows made arrows
Now we go to the forest boldly.
If you don’t go deep,
What are the wolves afraid of?

* * *

Good at the summer cottage,
Silence, warmth, comfort.
The fruit ripens in the garden
Different birds sing.
The rain has passed, no watering is needed,
Drink beer and relax
Do not want to relax
Go picking beds.
Good at the summer cottage,
That would be all year round
What the hell do we need seasons for?
Do you need a garden for hell?
Bathhouse, pond and barbecue,
Yes a hammock so that I lay.

* * *

A house stands outside the city
Often there’s a lot
But believe that luck,
Who has a summer cottage in the summer.

* * *

To his native cottage
I spend a lot of money
And of course, the return
So I dream to receive.
Fixed costs
For manure and siderates,
Film, seeds, shovels
Somehow you need to pay back.
To his native cottage
I spend incredible forces
And I hope for good luck:
Suddenly lucky with the weather.
Drought, rains and thunderstorms
And return frosts
Ruining crops and roses
And so that year.
Just do not lose heart.
I was not tired of the cottage.
I rush into affairs boldly
Like a whirlpool with a head.
It’s difficult and costly
Only a summer resident understands
Then what a pleasure
Eat your cucumber from the garden.
I will find joy for the soul
And in the morning I will walk through the garden.
It’s nice to relax:
I admire beauty.
Let the costs, let the worries
Only better not work.
I will be happy for years
My dear cottage!

* * *

In the summer I live in the country.
I play a ball on the grass
And under the blue sky
Often I run barefoot.
From porch to wicket
White stone tiles
They lie on the ground in a row
Making up a long row.
Chocolate bars have:
You lick them - and it becomes sweet!
On the ground of the same row of tiles
Not like chocolate.
I'm on a stone walk
In the morning I jump on a leg.
And I’ll get tired of “jumping and jumping” -
I'll sit down on a stump.
I'll sit on it a bit -
And again - and "jump" and "jump"!

* * *

I got a big summer cottage.
Who am I now? Gardener!
I don’t sleep at home anymore
All the bushes are writhing.
I don’t sit and walk
I’m planting something.
I don’t presume to list
With what and by whom am I fighting.
Dying by my hand
Weevils, beetles,
Other pests
Yes, and their parents.
How do I get started?
I don’t notice anything
Where are the neighbors, where is my ...
I clean it anyway!

* * *

Well in our country house ...
But this is bad luck:
There was no day yet
To not have rain!
And today the sky is gray
As if wearing a gray cloak,
And water flows from the cloak
And do not go anywhere ...
Masha also donned a cloak,
Rain - rain ... But business - business:
Find a puddle
And ride through the puddle!

The best country verses

Good at the summer cottage,
Forgetting everything
Get out of bed before dawn
Rinse out of the bucket.
Get dressed with my grandmother,
Chop wood in a shed
Knead the dough in the kitchen
For homemade pies.
Instead of boring physical exercises
Sweep the yard with a whisk
Weed four beds,
Repair a curved fence.
At the same time wash the dishes
In an old zinc basin
Wipe the floors everywhere
Take the goat to graze.
And when the clock is out of place
Suddenly twelve will begin to beat,
Finally, finally
You can wake up grandfather.

* * *

I'm going to the country tomorrow -
Do not work, do not plow!
For that I need a cottage,
To rest in the country!
Well, to dig in the ground -
You others find a fool!
I won’t bend down
Or spoil a manicure!
Take a walk before lunch
Lounging in a hammock
And then I'll go home
I am without cargo, light!
And a bouquet of narva as a keepsake
About "hard" work -
Dandelions with bindweed
Yes, nettle swans!

* * *

Look around at the summer cottage -
Everything is dressed like a summer:
And a rosehip with a rose
And an oak with a birch.
Everything is matched to fame -
I came up with fun
Dress like a model
In the corner behind the oak spruce!
The apple tree is laughing nearby
Like a young lady is standing
Here's a smile again
I’ll treat you with rosy ...
Evening, summer, but in the country -
The nightingale jumps in the beds,
Just a little bit in the corner a little bit
Heats the stove at the window,
Mom again: “Let's sleep,
To leave early tomorrow ... "
I woke up with an early light -
Good at the summer cottage!

* * *

We are in the country: beyond the meadow, the Oka is silvering,
Silvering like a new blade.
Our mother is the queen today
On my mother’s head is a wreath.
Our mother doesn’t like heavy hairstyles, -
Only time and hairpin to lose!
A quiet ray fell through the birches
On one silky lock.
In the sky a cloud floated and cried, melting.
Mom called it fate.
Our mother is now golden
And her wreath is blue.
Two wreaths on it, two wreaths, in fact:
Of flowers, and another of rays.
We donned this cornflower blue
And the other, golden, is nobody's.
Soon evening: beyond the forest, the moon will light up,
On rafts sparkle lights ...
Our mother is the queen today
Mom has wreaths on her head.

* * *

We return from the dacha to the comfort of the city,
On a lap a bucket of ripe raspberries
And over the city the clouds are a continuous veil,
On the road, cars, cars, cars ...
I’ll make jam so that in winter with a seagull
Remember the aromas of the past summer ...
Rumbled a little audibly over the long line,
This visible thunderstorm begins somewhere ...
Before the rain would have time, the wind lashes in the face
A motorcycle is not a car, but still wheels
Here is the city, the house, and the native porch ...
Rain is pounding on the roof like grains of millet.
We return from the dacha to the comfort of the city,
Well, tomorrow morning we’ll rest and go to the cottage ....
And over the city the clouds are a continuous veil,
It will rain and we will have a day off means!

* * *

We rest in the country -
Do not do a damn thing:
We play with a spatula
Then run with a bucket.
Early in the morning, getting up from the couch,
Eating yesterday’s sandwich,
We go to the farm
Under the name - a garden.
Bed to bed, flower bed to flower bed,
There is strawberry, there are flowers.
We look and a little bastard
From such a beauty.
And we can watch for a long time:
Admire and sigh
Only there is no sense from the views,
We must begin to "plow."
But nature cannot
Take us with an unshaven face.
Eyes in the shade, light makeup,
Chest raise, take a deep breath,
Tighten the belt ...
Shoes - Lloyd, outfit - Yves Saint Laurent,
Everything is on the ground without flaw.
Now we can safely
Without looking at a neighbor
Tear off the film from the greenhouses,
Go for a carrot ride:
Weed, cleverly pulled.
And then beets, lettuce (cabbage, cucumbers,
tomatoes, peppers, etc.)
And the potato was waiting
Young everyone is happy
But the Colorado is interfering -
Striped, damn it, bug
(Everyone would poke a snout)
We will collect the larvae
And fire them all, fire!
Not afraid to bend low
(As if whoever saw)
We collect strawberries in a bowl,
To the grandson did not molest.
The sun goes to bed
We got tired for the day.
No time to get drunk
And water the seedlings laziness.
They sank to tears:
Everything hurts, the back does not bend
We have no time for evening dreams -
Tomorrow everything starts from scratch.
We rest in the country -
Do not do a damn thing:
So make friends with nature
That we are not friends with the body !!!

* * *

I'm at my grandmother's cottage
I can’t, friends, otherwise.
I'm not sitting on a bench
And I take a watering can with water.
After drinking with a radish bed
And with a carrot very sweet
And a green cucumber
I will hear: "Well done!"

* * *

One show on TV
I wanted to see about the garden,
But I can’t, I need to go to the country
And then roses can confront.
I solved one problem with my son,
Now I need to start Russian,
But I can’t, I need to go to the country
It's time to plant a radish.
Your back hurts - this is bad luck,
It’s time for me to take care of my back,
But I can’t, I need to go to the country
After all, everything overgrows there with grass.
Sleep, but to rest in the bargain,
I won’t recognize myself in the mirror,
But I can’t, I need to go to the country
Who will water the cucumbers.
So heavy. How else?
But I cherish all the thought alone:
I’ll take my crop in the country,
Then, finally, rest.
It’s autumn. Finally a return.
How much money I save.
I am now sitting in the country and crying:
I can’t take so much away!

* * *

Grandfather and grandmother in the country
Being Sunday is good luck.
And how could it be otherwise?
From the rain nature "cries"
Everything turns green and blooms
And grandmother gives us strawberries.
Selflessly what to say
You can eat strawberries:
Without words, without a fight and without argument
Coping with the berries soon
We have no time to say what is delicious
Until it becomes empty in a bowl.
Thank them for their country work!
Will they call for a cherry soon?

* * *

I worked at the cottage.
I don’t feel my feet beneath me.
It helped me, nothing else
In this difficult matter God.
I worked with prayer
Trusting in Him.
My heart was having fun
So it was from what.
I'm sickle, rake, chopper
Three hundred passed in hostility.
Dirt washed off the tracks with a rag -
I can’t raise my hands.
Here lies a weed, defeated
Juicy feed for cows.
My work was selfless
What to load a firewood car!
Rain started. And thank God!
Silently, I look out the window.
Now I’ll rest a bit
Once another is not given.
I seemed to know for sure:
God will give strength to rise tomorrow
To start all over again.
Where to polo, dig there!

* * *

Summer, cottage, garden, flowers,
there are dragonflies, moths,
everyone is flying and buzzing
everyone around me is spinning.
I’ll catch them with a net -
many-many! And then
let them live with me
in a city apartment.
I ran all day
and panama - on one side,
but she caught the net deftly
only a ladybug!

* * *

Good when in the country
Resting on an empty stomach.
Ok when luck
It helps somehow.
Sit well on a chair
Under the branchy pine.
Good to walk in kind
Head uncovered.
To live not by the graces of God
Breathe fresh air.
Near the cottage threshold
Strengthen your body.
Surikov Igor

Beautiful poems about the summer season

I want to go to the cottage, to my grandfather!
Will definitely go.
There are my friends, girlfriends
Interesting toys.
There is raspberry, Barsik cat.
I’ll pour some water into the basin
And comin boat sail.
I won’t cry there at all.
In the garden under the bench
I'll take a bucket, watering can
And water my flowers.
I'll play on the sand.
I’ll build a house with my grandfather
With a tall pipe.
And when the sunset comes
I’m taking a steam bath with a woman.

* * *

Good, like in the country
Wake up "sleep off"! ..
Reach out, yawn
Not in a hurry ...
The birds in the kindergarten chirp
The sun is nearing its zenith!
I won't mess around
Being like a parasite!
You can dig in the beds
I get sciatica.
From yesterday from the beds
I have a backache…
I will be involved in sports!
Indeed, fishing is a sport!
In a hammock on the beach
Fishing is comfort!

* * *

And in the country - everything is different!
The sky is higher, the sun is brighter!
Even women in the country
Touch the look.
There are only threats from them:
Contingency poses
In every flowerbed like roses
Lighthouse stand!
And when the evening falls,
Cooling my shoulders
Stars in the sky like candles!
Silence. Crickets.
Yes, the frogs at the edge
They will sing their ditties
Like cute girlfriends
somewhere by the river.
Even if the sky is crying
Anyway, everything is different there.
A brook jumps a path
Thinking about
How to designate a puddle,
Yes puzzling kids
And a little fool
Running barefoot.
And the cat there in the country,
Life goes a little differently.
There cats sing and cry
All night long.
And the hardest task
Take her from the cottage
Only by deception, otherwise
In the hands will not go!
Good in our country house
At the well, take a chance
Solve all State tasks,
To abuse life
Get advice on the change
Where to look for your luck
To joke lightly, which means
Throw out your ...
Even vodka in the country
Drunk a little differently
It pours into a glass as if crying
Joyful tear.
For a snack, in addition,
What grew up in the country ...
Good! My heart is racing
And at least sing songs!

* * *

I enjoy the silence and loneliness
It’s so calm here ... I don’t feel like going home!
There is clutter, sharp sounds of crackling, hissing ...
And here - grass to the waist, colors, inspiration ...
I admire the unusual sunsets ...
Here the clouds hang in shreds of whitish ...
And in my town with suffocating smogs
Only ill health dances famously over the roads ...
I am infinitely dear a small country house.
Here, the neighbors have a red cat in the mound
Playing with a bow ... Birch waving a twig ...
Yes, here I feel happiness with every cell!

* * *

Rowan, apples and honey,
And August - August is leaving.
My soul is now living
At an old country house near Moscow.
I love being with her
Usually - I arrive late.
Rowan, apples and honey
They meet me in the kitchen
And with them tea, no - local tea -
With a leaf of currant and mint.
For me, so here it is, the paradise here ...
Take the word guys.

* * *

Good at the summer cottage
Everything glows with a bright color:
Here on the bed grows onions,
It blooms in blue.
And the peas rushing and rushing,
On a rope creeps up.
He has a white flower
And a green pod.
Big yellow petal
Has a zucchini flower
And his fruit is so pot-bellied,
Zucchini - even striped.
Has an equally important dignity
Almost like black eggplant.
And the salad is curled
It is rich in vitamins.
And carrots turn green there
In the ground hid a prey
Hiding your beautiful color
Orange - and better not,
Most useful in the world.
Children so love carrot juice.

* * *

All spring and summer
Just a test
Because it -
Country misery.
Seeds, seedlings,
Rake, plane cutter.
I'm glad to dung -
Desperately needed.
I dig, sow,
And then to the field.
I can do everything
Well, besides, I love.
Who, like me, is digging
They will understand me.
Every summer resident knows -
This is hellish labor.
What spring, what summer
No worries of others.
There are no days off here,
No weekend.
We are always in the country.
Hey weed, hold on!
Well, how else?
It is our life.

* * *

Five minutes by train.
Plus, walking - another five to seven ... Just something!
And - the "attic": cottage, two greenhouses,
Toilet "free flight".
In the afternoon, of course, beds-beds-beds.
In the evening - with a neighbor by the fireplace
"A little bit" ... And everything seems to be in order.
Everything seems to be calm and stable.
Well, how could it be otherwise
If there is a plot and a cottage!

* * *

With grandfather, with grandmother in the country
Good! How else?
There is a kindergarten, and beds
Here I do not need charging:
Admit all day
There is something to do here.
March. The snow is melting. Streams
Grunted. And rook
With an important view of the fields
We walked here and there.
Here I am with a spatula
I dig up the beds.
And of course water
We must not forget the beds!
In the sun, in bad weather
Water from the well
In the buckets we drag
Watering a watering can
Sweet strawberries are singing.
Whoever has time to assemble it,
Cook that compote and jam.
Treats enough for everyone!
Do not be lazy
Us when picking berries!
Greens, beets and carrots -
It’s all good for work
Tomatoes cucumbers,
Climb into the banks, well done!
So winter is cold
I do not be hungry
So the apples have ripened,
Poured and blushed!
Near the cherry branch oppression,
To the earth, already, it gets!
Juices and Jam
Will be a treat!
Good at the summer cottage!
If anyone forgot about it,
Let him come to visit.
Drop all things
And to the village to us!
We will be glad to see you.

* * *

And plays quieter
Tender than tender sings
When suddenly summer allows
It’s going to rain, and it’s coming.
It’s raining in the country, evening in the country,
At your dacha - a special hour,
When an appointment is
With him - waiting for you.
You just do not rush the move
Hours, trust them to step
The rain is freezing, look
And the wind, the fidget, the verse ...
Everything is as if someone brought
You are on a straight line of roads.
It was like this with me - I saw
It was not an accident, it was God.

* * *

Who's where for the weekend
Well, and I - to the garden.
Chopper, beds - we are native,
On weeding - back and forth.
I grab my potatoes -
Let it grow! (Bucket from the bush).
I’ll rest from the stitches of the wire
My head is empty.
Let the girlfriend-muse sleep
I rush to the garden.
Bucket a hundred to himself (on the belly),
Watering. Everything is flowering!

* * *

What a luck! What a luck!
Today we are going to the country as a family!
There is a river, there is a forest, there are mushroom glades,
And horses graze in the black meadows ...
You can’t describe everything that is there,
We go to the cottage, come with us!
In the evening, we’ll make a bonfire with heat,
We’ll sing funny songs to the guitar!
Let's have a fun and friendly picnic:
We bake potatoes and fry the barbecue.
Vacation! Summer! What a luck!
We drive, we drive, we drive to the country!

* * *

Power line,
And behind it - scattered pines.
This is gardening, that is, a summer residence -
That is, something is not at all serious.
Roofs, from the attic balcony,
The prospect is humped around.
And the land I bow
Granted-and not count.
Colorful houses and sheds,
They are shrugging, now they are bad, then they are good ...
Unless, at the edge of the forest
Feel the freedom for the soul.

Interesting unusual poems about the cottage

Peace, labor, May! ... June ... July ...
Prospects - cottage ... steering wheel ...
The only thing missing is a bulldozer,
So that all the beds for hell ... in the lake ...
In the middle of the brazier I’ll put
I’ll put Trofim’s disc ...
All the neighbors will know
WHAT you need to TAKE from the cottage !!!

* * *

Stupid is my neighbor, not otherwise
I asked me at a meeting yesterday:
- What are you planting there in the country?
- In the country, you fool, I “plant” a LIVER!

* * *

- Brothers, life is not dumb at all,
I have a blast furnace at the cottage!
- Why do you need a blast furnace there?
-And I just live in it, on ....

* * *

Often talking about the garden,
I thought to the hell, -
radish blushed watching
for how moles breed.

* * *

I live as a hermit in the country,
Relatives and colleagues forgotten.
I solve difficult tasks,
Which throws life ...
Firstly, there is no toilet in the house, -
We have to wriggle in the bushes.
Of course, neither water nor light.
The nearest store is five miles away.
And to change something here - I am powerless.
The slightest hope of success.
... It is financially difficult to live in Russia.
But spiritually we are richer than all!

* * *

You see how the grubbing bite prices
And besides, they grow every day ...
Maybe again the people will trample on dachas -
To primeval soils and roots?
In a dirty robe, swearing dirty
The garden is broken according to the drawing,
He howls, crustacean:
“I go out alone between!”
Thoughts are not about cheese or fat,
A keen eye on the flora look - look:
Everything that was stupidly thrown before -
Now it’s urgent to revive!
Pure Europe shudders
Contemplating this creature:
Unstable digger burrows,
And his psyche is flawed.
The muscles haven’t been sagging over the winter,
Sweat spills over to the kirzachi -
Rakes whistle dry, like sabers,
Choppers knead smaller than swords.
This monster in a wild rage
Everything that prowls is ready to crush:
And homeless people with wallets, and even
Unrequited slugs and moles!
Wild traditions of craftsmen
Grown under the yoke of workdays -
Like space aliens
But incomprehensible and wondrous.
Say spoiling women - the ugly custom:
Belt bent in a belt
Except how to hunch over a bed -
For no other good!
Whispers the demon - curator of perversions:
Stomp in the garden, and the apple tree has grown,
Enjoy the bouquet of sensations ...
I mean - etch it from the aphids!
As they are flowery in epithets,
If we are talking about the crop:
The summer resident is faster than Adventists,
Bullshit pound for mozhai.
Where European is not necessary - quicker,
But in the brains a mess and twilight,
If he snarls his snails,
And enters into same-sex marriage?
No, Europe cannot appreciate
Ascending to the sky at dawn
The scent of dill
Zucchini heady amber.
Only we, a product of the Soviet school,
The views and scent are wide!
Scythians? Yes! Mongols? May the Mongols
But not completely fools!
We are our table - we will decorate with our grub,
And let the Indian Opanas
Somewhere in the notorious Honduras
He chews his sour pineapple!
If the roots fall into the bunker -
Let the size of small expanded clay -
We are not afraid of either lights or water,
And the decline of spirit does not threaten!
We put on this whistle:
Ahead - and don’t go to the grandmother -
Wonderful ajars - to the eyeballs,
And not strange - at all a dime a dozen!

* * *

Uncle Borya read in the garden magazine
About the wonderful properties of the Physalis culture.
He gives such elements to man,
It was as if he had swallowed the entire pharmacy.
Planting the seeds of a Mexican diva
Observing the regimen of weeding, watering,
Uncle Borya told us meaningless,
That Physalis is a king from the nightshade family.
Beside him, the grapes seem redundant,
And it is not for nothing that he is called the Jewish cherry.
But the young man didn’t take into account the smallness,
Sevastopol is not Mexico, as it turned out.
Either fruit, or vegetable, to taste
In microdoses, like the most evil mustard.
“Yes,” said Uncle Borya, talking with us, “
This muck today I will uproot.
But the alien’s trunks are stuck at the bottom.
And the uproar lasted at least a week,
And in the spring green shoots revolted,
Here and there in the garden was only Physalis.
Without asking the owner for either qualifications or quotas,
He penetrated beyond the measured hectare.
And the neighbors that were both left and right,
Uncle Bor was threatened with severe punishment.
Someone weaker would drown with grief
But not our optimist gardener Uncle Borya,
That put five liters in cognac nature,
And the neighbors forgave:
- Live already, Michurin ...

* * *

The summer resident boarded a summer cottage bus.
Near the woman crouched
And looked into the basket.
Immediately voted:
"Oh, open, secret, man,
How to grow soon
are you like tomatoes?
Scarlet, straight bulk,
How do you deduce those? ”
In a playful mood
Yes, even slightly under beer
The summer resident gave her a recipe:
“It's no secret, no secret,
I strip in the country
And I appear before them.
Shame tomatoes
I’m always red. ”
A year passed and again in the summer,
This couple met.
The summer resident pinned up aunt:
How did his method take root:
blushed il bummer?
Aunt honestly admitted so-
Daily exposed
And so I walked around the garden.
Tomatoes, as it was -
Do not blush, scoundrels,
But what Cucumbers !!

* * *

What's the news?
Who's jumping there?
Nastya jumps like a ball
Because, good luck
We went to the country.
She doesn't cry all day
Not scandalous, not messy,
The house is quiet, it means
All went to the country.

* * *

Soothingly in the summer at the cottage,
It blows with love - but how else?
After all, in nature in green silence
In every cell, the feeling is in a hurry.
The dove coo coo quietly with the dove
"Bee" calls sea-buckthorn
And by the river, responding to the call,
Gently kisses a cow.
Beets and beets are being sung on a bed,
They admire the father-in-law and the father-in-law
Like a frigate who saw a lighthouse
Cling to the pretty sister-in-law.
In the summer gazebo behind the easy door
The brotherhood dreams of the Eternal with the bride,
Joyful brother-in-law, he was lucky:
Next to the brother-in-law it’s getting younger without words ...
Daughter and daughter-in-law are harvesting carrots,
Ash and sister-in-law help them,
In the cherries where the sprawling horsetail grew
Mother-in-law is explained in love by mother-in-law.

* * *

All for the summer on vacation - only I have longing!
Cottage, beds, mosquitoes - there is no finer pore!
I would use the sea, the south! And around the forest, meadows ...
Moshkara and scorching heat - that’s what happiness is.
Here the fence has already rotted, then I haven’t poured cabbage ...
A hundred affairs and a couple of hands - there is nobody to help around ...
Here I am, a warrior in the field, under the sights of cunning eyes -
That neighbor in the hole, in the fence watching the crop with us.
He bought a braid and as soon as I fall asleep -
The reptile mows, around the circle - as if bamboo is growing there.
Anger and rage are at the limit, but we must not forget about the matter.
Early in the morning again in the battle with weeds and grass!
The beetle is huge, Colorado has eaten everything - there is no escape!
Sly eyes are squinting, a neighbor is grinning!
Tired of it! Tired of it! Lie down right among the beets
so that the body is tanned - this is the reward for the labors.
My tan is more equal than many, just pulled my back,
If only it would rain, for God's sake, so I rested for an hour.
I'll come home tired, chopping vegetables
And I understand that today I am happier than all of people.
Someone in the office smokes, someone in four walls,
Well, I'm a free bird all wander in the clouds.
Do you want to eat berries, do you want to pick an apple -
There is everything you need at your fingertips! Heart is breaking from the chest!
Immediately the soul of the poet and artist is an easel!
I know for sure! I know clearly: there is no better place to give!

* * *

From worries, from smoke from gases
From the bustle of Moscow,
We come to the country
Relax here from the heart.
Oh you summer cottage, our summer cottage
Good on all sides
In the summer you invite
Trill of bird songs ringing.
Morning dew on the beds
And grainy ground
And the pollen of sweet blossoms
Enjoy with you.
The sun, we are always happy
Rain, we are glad the same
Cottage is our pride
Who can argue here.
Enticing all nature,
You are calling me.
Here everyone will find work,
Here nature is for the soul.
Greenhouses, flowers, potatoes
All classes are good.
Behind the fence there is a creek
The forest is thick behind the path
Good at the summer cottage,
Resting with the whole family.
And in winter covered with snow
You are dutifully waiting for spring
Nightingale trills, drops
And we will come again!