Ivan Turgenev
In Anticipation of Hunting

Morning! Here’s morning! I’m growing aware 
Of the red sun drawing rays in the air,

Cold of a bright autumn cloudless day
Is waking me in a cheerful way.

Charms of the night from my soul are streaming;
I will come out: there heavens are beaming,

Spangles in the air are whirling, while frost
Boughs of birches has bleached and glossed.

Radiant skies display haleness and pleasure;
How are you, ample field, at your leisure?

What happy time for a hunt is indeed!
Give me the rifle! Let you saddle my steed!

Here he is! – a conspicuous patrician
Feeling the cold shows rapid volition,

Neighing he is and is arching the neck
Panels of wood crunching under his leg,

Geese being frightened are passing with cackling,
My hunting dog jumps with joy near stabling,

Its loud bark sounds joyous and hoarse.
Hey, do not dawdle! Bring me promptly the horse!

Translated by Vyacheslav Chistyakov