Translated by Zinovy Korovin
WINTER’S EVENING
Blizzard covers skies with dark mist
swirling snowy whirlwinds;
either howls like a wild beast
or reminds the cry of kids;
cracks by rotten thatch with anger
on the old roof in a fuss,
or as a belated stranger
knocks at window to us.
This old hut sank into sadness
and moreover darkened dead.
Why are you, my bygone gladness,
so silent, so sad?
Are you either tired, darling,
of the blizzard’s howl near
or just dreaming over buzzing
of your spindle swinging here?
Let us drink, my dear gladness
of my poor youth and ploy,
in the grief; and where the mug is?
We will get the hearty joy.
Sing me of the bird resided
on the quiet, overseas;
of the girlie quickly glided
to the stream thru morning breeze.
Blizzard covers skies with dark mist
swirling snowy whirlwinds;
either howls like a wild beast
or reminds the cry of kids.
Let us drink, my dear gladness
of my poor youth and ploy,
in the grief; and where the mug is?
We will get the hearty joy.
December 9, 2007 - March 19, 2016