Ivan Bunin
Evening

We always only dream about happiness, however,
It’s everywhere. And perhaps it is
These trees behind the barn wrapped into autumn weather,
And through my window a softly flowing breeze.

In the endless sky there rises white and wispy
Edge of a shining cloud. Quite for long
I’ve followed it. We see and know so little,
But to the knowledgeable happiness belongs.

My window’s open. With a squeaky cheer
A bird perched on the sill. And for a bit
I take away my tired eyes from the read.

The day’s declining now. The sky has cleared.
The thresher’s buzz is coming from the barn…
I see, I hear, happy. All is mine.

Translated by Liliya Garipova