On The Winter By Vasily Bargachan Poem by Yuri Starostin

The birch under my window
Is shining by the thin-est silver.
In a frosty day the pollen flies
From her fun face.
So afar the dark forest is,
His heavy view is gloomy.
But just recently,
It hold, do rocking, a firmament.

The strict view of the cast thrunks.
To me by the sadness make an ice the heart,
And I left the warm shelter,
Go alone among the snow.

By the white snow virgin soil
I come to the grey-hair pine
And long I shall to hear the noise
Her calm wise thoughts.