Winter has come. It is cold. It freezes hardly. The earth is covered with deep snowdrifts. Lakes and rivers are frozen over. Trees are wrapped up with the silver shawl. You can not hear the singing of birds. The winter landscape blows the happy and the sad mood at the same time. It is one of the most beautiful season. Sometimes the long cold winter evenings seem to be endless. But I don`t afraid to catch a cold on the contrary I feel the fresh surge of energy. There are a lot of merry entertainments in winter which we do not have in other seasons. We can ski, skate and sledge. A lot of Russia poets were delighted with winter,so they wrote a lot of wonderful poems. I understand the delight of the poets. The winter landscape always strikes my imagination. Winter is my favorite season because it is wonderful and beautiful in winter. People are often sad. But as for me, every year I wait impatiently for winter because I want to admire once again the splendid winter landscape. ПЕРЕВОД: Наступила зима. Ударил мороз. Установились холода. Глубокие сугробы укрыли землю. Блестящий лед сковал реки и озера. Деревья закутались в серебристые снежные покрывала. В зимнем лесу не слышно птиц. Зимний пейзаж навевает одновременно и радостное, и печальное настроение. Это очень красивое время года. Иногда долгие холодные зимние вечера кажутся бесконечными. Однако я чувствую прилив сил зимой. Меня не пугает холод. Зимой много развлечений, каких не бывает в другие времена года. Можно кататься на лыжах, на санках, на коньках. Многие русские поэты восторгались зимой. Восхищение поэтов мне близко и понятно. Картина зимней природы всегда поражала мое воображение. Я люблю зиму потому, что это время года удивительно красиво. Часто зимой люди грустят. Но я каждый год с нетерпением жду наступления холодов, потому что вновь и вновь хочу любоваться великолепным зимним пейзажем.
When I was four months old, my mother died, and we were left alone with his father. I did not have brothers and sisters, we lived in an old gypsy caravan. My father owned a gas station, a van and a small meadow. For me as a child looked after his father, changed diapers, drove in a carriage to the doctor. But at the same time he had to earn a living. My dad was a vigorous man, we were very close. I spent much time in the studio, helping Dad with the machines. The workshop was a stone building, my father built it himself. Van was our housing and our home. It was one room, there was a stove that warms us in the winter. From the furniture we had two narrow beds, two chairs and a small table. I love to live in this gypsy wagon. My father was the most wonderful, delightful father. He smiled with his blue eyes. At night, he told them a story invented. Top stories turned into TV series and continued for many nights.
