‘Leaves’
by Fyodor Tyutchev
Let pines and firs
jut out all winter,
curled up and sleeping
through snows and blizzards.
Their meagre greens,
like a hedgehog’s spines,
might never yellow -
they’re never fresh.
But we, we’re a light tribe,
blossoming, glittering
such a short time,
guests on our branches.
All the fine summer
We’re beautiful people,
playing with sunbeams,
bathing in dews.
The birds have stopped singing,
flowers stopped blooming,
sunbeams have paled,
breezes have dropped.
So why hang on? And why go yellow?
Surely it’s better
to fly away with them?
Faster, wild winds,
faster, faster!
Snatch us quickly
from boring boughs.
Tear us, hurl us away.
We don’t want to wait.
Fly, come fly
and we’ll fly with you!
Source: http://www.pereplet.ru/moshkow/LITRA/TUTCHEW/english.html,
F. Jude, trans., © 2000, opened 18 Dec. 2016
--
Holy
Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the
Souð!
Anathema
to the Union!
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