To The Don

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Through the Steppes, see there he glances!
  Silent flood glad hailed by me,--
Thy far distant sons do proffer
  Through me, greeting fond to thee!

Every stream knows thee as brother,
  Don, thou river boasted wide!
The Araxes and Euphrates
  Send thee greeting as they glide.

Fresh and strengthened for pursuing,
  Scenting home within thy gleam--
Drink again the Don'ish horses,
  Flowing boundary, of thy stream!

Faithful Don! There also greet thee
  Thy true warriors bold and free--
Let thy vineyard's foaming bubbles
  In the glass be spilled to thee!

© Alexander Pushkin