Sergey Esenin
The winter sings

The winter sings — aloud it yells,
The pine tree with its hundred bells
lulls shaggy forest and
around it all the rain-drenched clouds
Are sadly mounting in their crowds
To float to distant land.

And in the yard a blizzard spreads
Its lovely silken carpet’s threads,
But brings its painful cold.
The energetic sparrows flit
Like little orphans there and sit
close up to window’s hold.

For frozen stiff they huddle tight
To warming house with all their might
And hunger makes them tired.
But, madly roaring, storm’s gusts knock
The flapping shutters as they rock —
Its anger now is fired.

And gently there the birds now sleep
Surrounded by the icy heap
Against the frozen pane.
And there they dream of lovely thing —
How beauteous spring to all will bring
Bright sunny smiles again.

Translated by Rupert Moreton