By Sergei Yesenin
The white birch is covered
All with snow veil,
As with silver, rather,
Outside my dwell.
On the fluffy boughs,
With the snow lace
There appeared flowers
On the white hoar dress.
And the birch is staying
In the quiet dream,
As the gold, the snowflakes
Are sparkling in the peace.
And the dawn, so lazily
Going around,
Sprinkles the new silver
On the lacy boughs.
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