Nikolay Zabolotsky
Spring in the forest

Every day behind the hill's brink
I disappear, dear friend.
Like a laboratory, spring
Lies across the vernal land.

Within every little flower,
Like within a live retort,
Sunlit moisture gathers power
And evaporates skyward.

Taking time through this to rummage,
With a learned chemist's look,
Dressed in elongated plumage
Walks the road a purple rook.

As he studies with acknowledgment
What is given as the truth
He collects large worms as nourishment,
All to benefit the youth.

And in forest depths of mystery,
Like a savage far away,
Songs of war of ancient history
Capercailye starts to play.

Ancient eidolon resembling,
Losing sanity from sin,
Over countryside he's trembling,
Roaring deeply from within.

On the tussocks by the aspen tree,
Celebrating the sunrise,
Sharing lament of the ancestry,
Hares are dancing circlewise.

Paw in paw they gather, burrowing,
As if children, small and weak,
About all the hares' sorrowing
They monotonously speak.

And this season, now and evermore,
Over all the song and dance,
Populating earth with fairy lore,
Lays the sun its blazing glance.

And above our forests, probably,
It is passing far and wide,
As it smiles uncontrollably
At the miracles inside.

Translated by Dmitry Yampolsky