Afanasy Fet
Evening

It sounded above the clear river,
It rang out in the fading meadow,
It swept above the silent grove,
It lit up the opposite shore.

Into the distant twilight
The river wound to the west.
Clouds, losing their gold hems,
Drifted like billows of smoke.

From the hillock — first damp then hot —
Sighs spread through the night air,
But summer lightning glimmers
With bright blue-green fire.

Translated by Don Mager