Spring by N. Y. VAPTSAROV translated by Ann Wood

SPRING

My spring, my white spring,
still uninhabited, ungrateful,
only in dream dreams dreaming,
how you pass low over the poplars,

but you're not stopping your flight here.
Spring my, my white spring -
I know you will come with rain and hurricanes,
wild, scary, flaming

to regain thousands of hopes
and wash the bloody wounds.
How the birds will sing in the corn!
Happy will swim in the open air ...

People will enjoy their work
and they will love themselves as brothers.
My spring, my white spring ...
Let me see your first flight,

gave life to the dead squares,
let me only see your sun
and - die of your barricades!





Poetry by antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2019-03-28 at 09:42

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antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
He is a great poet, sadanly killed too young doring the war. You are welcome Thomas and thank you for the nice words.
2019-03-30


Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
This is an excellent poem, and your translation is both clear and graceful. Thank you so much for posting it!
2019-03-30


antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
You are welcome Ken and thanks for reading it.
2019-03-28


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Thank you for posting Ann.
Ken D
2019-03-28