M.Tsvetaeva, It's Clear Morning And Not Hot... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

By Marina Tsvetaeva

It's clear morning and not hot.
You're running over the meadow.
There, on Oka-river, a boat
Is slowly sailing downwards.

And you are a few words repeating,
One by one and willy-nilly.
Somewhere the little bells are ringing,
Slighlty in morning fields.

In fields? In meadow, aren't they?
Are they moving to harvest?
Someone's eyes have looked for moment
Into the destiny someone's.

Distance is blue between pine-trees,
Rumble and bustle at barn...
And yellow autumn is smiling
To our spring time.

Life has swung open, but it were...
Ah, such the golden days far!
God, how they're distant, oh my god!
Lord, how distant they are!

1909