Snow is still white in the fields
but spring is in the water's voice.
Running, the waters wake the sleepy banks.
They run, they glisten, they rejoice.
«Spring is coming, spring is coming!»
in every direction they shout.
«We're the young spring's runners,
with the news she has sent us out!»
Spring is coming, spring is coming!
In a bright, rosy round-dance plays
a frolicking, happy bustle
of May's warm, quiet days.
Еще в полях белеет снег,
А воды уж весной шумят —
Бегут и будят сонный брег,
Бегут и блещут и гласят —
Они гласят во все концы:
«Весна идет, весна идет!
Мы молодой весны гонцы,
Она нас выслала вперед».
Весна идет, весна идет!
И тихих, теплых майских дней
Румяный, светлый хоровод
Толпится весело за ней!
«In the days of my youth she was fond of me, / And the seven-stemmed flute she handed me. / To me with smile she listened; and already gently / Along the openings echoing of the woods / Was playing I with fingers tender: / Both hymns solemn, god-inspired / And peaceful song of Phrygian sh...»
«In those days when new to me were / Of existence all impressions: — / The maiden's glances, the forests' whisper, / The song of nightingale at night; / When the sentiments elevated / Of Freedom, glory and of love, / And of art the inspiration / Stirred deeply so my blood: — / My ...»
«Like a dog on a chain the machine-gun / Barks out from beyond the wood; / Splinters of shrapnel are buzzing / Like bees as they forage for food. And that distant ‘Hurrah’, like the song of / The reapers, might tempt you to say / That this is some peaceful village / At the end of a f...»
«To M. M. Chichagov Like a dog that strains on heavy halter / Rifle yaps across the forest now, / Bee-like, buzzing shrapnel doesn’t falter, / Gathering bright red honey from the bough. In the distance, though, “Hurrah” is sounding / Like the reapers’ singing when they’re done. / ...»