I imagine it was quite amusing
Our puppy YCLer crush.
Members of one regional committee,
To the congress we were being rushed.
The train in clouds of vapour
And us freezing under one fur coat.
Drat it all, that's when I got the notion
I loved you. I swear I was that smote.
(From "The Fisher-Girl")
Waves, o waves of the sea, tell me if
There is something you're striving to gain,
As you beat on the towering cliff,
Tell me what, then, you hope to attain,
Waves, o waves!
And oh why must you, tell me, oh why
Must you hurtle and bubble and sing,
As though you would reach for the sky
Like a skein of wild geese on the wing?
Waves, o waves!
Should you go to the banks of the Dyoma,
Where the poplars sigh, wind-torn,
Take the field path we both knew there,
Where we walked one recent morn.
Will you hear, where the rushes quiver,
The throb of a heart full of love?..
Reed-slim, you'll then glide in the river,
Gaze timidly round and swim off.
The sullen sky is dark and clouded,
And daylight seems to shrink and cower…
It'll rain. A bluish fog has shrouded
The distance where the summits tower.
A wind springs up. In apprehension
The meadow grasses bow and flutter.
The lake is stirred by undulation,
The rushes clasp and kiss each other.
When I heard of your approaching,
I the roadway at morning sought,
With the first frost the rooftops coating,
And the valley in silver wrought.
Down their verdant headgear throwing,
The birch trees mutely grieve,
And the roadway where you're going
Cover with yellow leaves.
SKI TRACKS IN THE SNOW
Tracks made by skis. Snow all over Is melting slowly.
A rook has perched upon a poplar, Sedate and solemn.
Who of us is the greater idler? Well, I wonder.
Children run about. We goggle. It's a wonder
What precise and even parallels The skis are drawing.
Closer, closer, Spring is coming, Spring is coming.