Стэна Кравцова

2012-09-01 11.36.30Меня зовут Стэна. Мне 31 год. В школе мне нравилось изучать немецкий язык. Сейчас моё хобби — это моя работа. Я учитель английского и немецкого языков.

My name is Stena. I am 31 years old. I liked to learn German at school. Now my hobby is my job. I am a teacher of  Еnglish and German.

Перевод стихотворений Николая Кравцова


My own region and favorite city is Gomel!
I often remember it.
And I am waiting for visiting it.

My favorite city is Gomel.
There is something that attracts me there.
I love it, I love my native city, I love it very much.

The sky is blue and the air is cleaner here than everywhere.
I’ll come back to my town, if  it “calls” me again.
It beckones me only with its invisible hand.
My own region and favorite city is Gomel!


The mystery of the moon.

Oh, night! Oh, how beautiful “you” are!
What stars and the moon
Are shining brightly in the sky!
I especially like the moon.

The moon, the moon! What “tempting thing you are”!
Nobody can understand “your mystery”.
“You” have been admiring for centuries.
What kind of mystery do “you” have?

Dedicate me into your mystery, please!
The moon, the moon!
Though you do not shine brightly,
but “your light” helped many people.

To write poems and verses.
To read them at night under the window.
It is a dream

To read the favourite poems our darlings

Under the moonlight!

The moon, the moon! “You” helped many people
To find their love.
Maybe “you” can help me
To find my love too!



Our time is running very quickly

And we are getting on in years.
The senility is insensibly,
The body is getting old, the soul is getting young.
Don’t despair people!
Life is beautiful!

Because life is not “the only one”!

There are a lot of them!
We should live all of them

And then we schould think,
When we can die and

We can reborn!

And once again we can appear

On this mortal world!



Spring is my favourite time!
It’s time to love and blossoming.
This is the birth of

fields, forests, and much more.


It’s time of the babbling of the brooks,
New arrival of the summer birds,
Whose destination is
To decorate the forest.

Spring is time of poets and beautiful ladies.
Oh, how beautiful “you” are!

It’s my favourite time!
It’s time of birth of nature.

Spring, perhaps, also,
Is time of reflection and sadness.
I don’t dare to approve this.
I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.

I don’t know how to argue.
I can’t say if I have a right

Or I don’t have a right to think so,

Judge for it yourself, please!

But I think about spring,

How beautiful “you” are!
It is time of reflection and sadness,

And perhaps
It’s time of the babbling of brooks

And flowering of our Souls!

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