Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov. (№ 364468)

Scattered in the wide field,
Like bees, with a whoop the Cossacks;
So pokazalsya icons
There on the edge of the two, and more.
But the turban one Murid
In Circassian red goes important
The horse is light grey all boils
He waved, calling - where are the brave?
Who will fight to the death!
Now, look in the black hat
Cossack went Greben;
The rifle snatched quickly,
Very close... the shot... light smoke...
Hey you, villagers, for him...
What? hurt! - Nothing to speak of...
And gunfire...