«It’s evening. Dew / Sparkles the nettles. / I stand in the roadway / Resting among willows. Moon’s light is strong / Striking our roofs. / I listen to the song, / Nightingales far off. It’s warm and nice / Like winter by a stove. / Like tall candles / Birches stand above. ...»
«For A. M Remizov Riveted in place on her shattered paw / She had curled near to her den. / A thin trickle of blood in the snow / Framed her face’s pain. The shot and bristly smoke remained / In her eyes from its burst from the fen. / From the scrubby bushes like wind / Pellets had sc...»
«Past mountains, past the yellow valleys, / A path is stretching from the village. / I gaze on woods and flames of evening / Where nettles twine the wattle fencing. Heavenly blue spreads in the morning / Where like sand, churches’ domes are gleaming. / Breezes ripple the roadside grass /...»
«The red evening is settling along the road / And rowan trees are sinking in mists and shade. / An ancient isba’s doorway opens wide / Like jaws that chew the pungent quiet inside. The loyal autumn chill lovingly stole / From farmyard through the haze to the fields of oats. / And through...»