Fyodor Tyutchev
- A Spring Storm, by Frank Jude
(I love May’s first storms...) - I love spring storms - the rain, the lightning..., by Ilya Shambat
«I concealed all my worry inside me, / And gazed casually, calm and composed. / She sat down, like a porcelain idol, / In a long predetermined pose. It’s my daily routine to be merry / But attentiveness takes all my might… / Or did indolence now overwhelm me / After so many scented M...»
«I hear the always-sad voice of the oriole / and I salute the passing of delectable summer. / With the hissing of a snake the scythe cuts down / the stalks, one pressed hard against another. And the hitched-up skirts of the slender reapers / fly in the wind like holiday flags. Now if only / ...»
«I hear the oriole's always-grieving voice, / And the rich summer's welcome loss I hear / In the sickle's serpentine hiss / Cutting the corn's ear tightly pressed to ear. And the short skirts of the slim reapers / Fly in the wind like holiday pennants, / The clash of joyful cymbals, an...»
«A see-through shroud now disperses / And melts unnoticed on the sod. / The spring, so very cold and merciless, / Is killing off each swelling bud. So frightful of the early death, / That I can’t look at God’s creation. / I feel the grief King David left, — / Millenniums of desolat»