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!
«Every moment we were together / We celebrated, like Epiphany, / Alone in the whole world. You were / Bolder and lighter than a bird’s wing, / Head swirling with vertigo, you ran / Down the staircase and led me / Through damp lilac into your domain / On the other side of the mirror. ...»
«The rules of winter we obey. / We roll a snowball and run after, / Acclaim its growth with peals of laughter, / And brush the surplus snow away. As if misfortune were in view, / The people passing by assemble / Along the fence with lips atremble / To watch what you and I shall do. We m...»
«I watch the scooter's flight / And feel my envy growing! / My eyes are hot and bright / With summer's quick tears flowing. A girl with winning smile / Clings closely to the rider. / A humpy sluggish snail / Do I appear beside her. Farewell! Ride at your ease / To where green summits ...»
«Our sacred craft has existed / For thousands of years.... / With it, luminous even in darkness is earth. / But no poet has ever insisted, / Through laughter or tears, / That there is no wisdom, no age, no death.»