Spring thunder storm: Весенняя гроза - Федор Тютчев

 
I love a storm at May’s beginning,
When the first thunderclaps of spring,
As though, enjoying of its greening,
Roar in the space of sky blue ring.

Young bursts of thunder-claps are growing,
Look, rain is sprinkling, dust up fled,
The pearly strings of rain are flowing,
The sun is gilding sparkling threads.

The tunes of birds reprise asunder,
A stream is running down the hill,
Both gaily echo to the thunder:
Noise at a height and sounds of trill.

You’ll say, it’s Hebe, windy-headed,
When fed the eagle of Zeus, has spilt
From heaven to earth her cup, embedded
With thunderstorms, and laughed her lilt.  

Валерий Игнатович, поэтический перевод, 2009

Сертификат Поэзия.ру: серия 862 № 70151 от 29.05.2009

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