Robert Burns is the national poet of Scotland. Every year on his bithday scotsmen all over the world gather together for a traditional celebration in which his memory is glorified,his poems are recited and his song are sung. Burns poetry is loved and enjoied by all his countrymen. They love Burns for the generosity and kindness of his nature, for his patriotism and truthfulness. In his poems he sang the pride and dignity of the Scotish peasantry. Burns sang the beauty and the glory of his native land. He gloryfield true love and friendship. Burns was born in Alloway, near Ayr, on the 25 of January, 1759. His father was a hard-working man and he took great trouble to give his family all the education he could. When Robert was 6, he was send to a school at Alloway Miln. Robert were given a good knowledge of English. For some years Burns worked on the family farm. They lived very poor. Burns wrote his first poem at the age of 14. And from then till his death his poems and songs came out, giving delight and joy to the himself, his countrymen and all the world around. Burns worked with his father and brothers. The death of his father in 1784 left Burns free to chose his own kind of life, but it also gave him new resposobilities as head of the family. As a farmer he was unsuccessful and moved to other place - Burns published his poems in Kilmarnock in 1786. The success was great. Burns wrote many poems and songs. After a short illness he died on 21'st July, 1796. Millions of people all over the world highly esteem and love Burns poems. S. Marshak, a great soviet poet, brought Burns to russian people throught his fine translate. My Heart's in the Highlands
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highkands, a chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe - My heart in the Highlands wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birthplace of valour, the country of worth: Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests and wild-handing woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highkands, a chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe - My heart in the Highlands wherever I go.