Youth Poem by Ivan Bunin
Youth
A whip cracks in the wood, and cattle low
And through the underbrush are heard to
Crash heavily. Leaves rustle. Snowdrops show
Their blue heads here and there. A sudden, furtive
Wind starts to blow, and ashen clouds are swept
Across the skies, a cool, fresh rain presaging…
The heart grieves and is glad that life is, strangely,
Vast like the steppe and empty like the steppe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 7:12:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
