Soon enough the last bits of winter will fade, and nature will offer the enchantment of spring beauty. I wanted to share the following poem by a pretty unknown turn-of-the-century Russian poet that really captures that sense of magic.
Konstantin Balmont “Spirit of the Winds”
Дух ветров, Зефир игривый The Spirit of the Winds, a playful Zephyr
Прошумел среди листов, whispered among the leaves,
Прикоснулся шаловливый Playfully caressed the
К нежным чашечкам цветов. Tender bells of the flowers.
И шепнул неуловимый, And he elusively whispered,
И волною шевельнул, Stirring a surge upon
К арфе звучной и незримой The sweet, unseen harp,
Дланью быстрою прильнул. With a nimble hand.
И с беспечностью ребёнка, And with the ease of a child,
Не заботясь ни о чём, Without a single concern,
Он играл легко и звонко He played lightly and audibly
В ясном воздухе ночном. In the clear evening air.
И влюблённые наяды His beloved Nymphs
Показались из волны, Revealed themselves on the waves
И к нему кидали взгляды and threw longing glances at him
В свете гаснущей Луны. In the light of the fading moon.
Нимфа с нимфою шепталась, The nymphs whispered to each other
О блаженстве говоря. Speaking of blessed enchantments,
А за Морем пробуждалась As the Rosy-hued dawn
Розоперстая заря. Stepped out above the Sea.
Translation by Zhenya Amditis