Igor Severyanin
Spring Day

To my dear friend K. M. Fofanov¹

This day of spring is hot and gold,
The city's entirely blinded by the sun.
I'm once more me, I'm once more young,
I'm once more happy and deep in love.

My soul sings and yearns for the countryside.
Everyone I address as a brother...
What boundless freedom and room to move!
What songs, what flowers are blooming now!

I can't wait to leap into a cart
And jolt into the fresh meadows over ruts,
Look windburned peasant women in the eye
And embrace my enemy as a friend.

Rustle, rustle, you spring oak woods.
Grow, grass! Lilac, flower!
None are guilty, all men are innocent
On such a blessed day.

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1. Konstantin Mikhailovich Fofanov (1862-1911), Russian poet noted for the transparent purity and musicality of his verse.

Translated by Bernard Meares