Oh spring, oh spring, I know this tender light,
I hear the music, yes, I hear, I smile;
My heart's responding to the tuneful stride
Of sunbeams walking on the red roofs' tiles.
And I am speaking to myself again:
The spring is far away across the winter,
The city's watching through the closed windows.
I don't remember where it all began.
But I am going on towards my spring,
I'm running, running to the promised April
And keep ignoring cold, I'm just unable
To see that in this snow I will sink.
And joyful blush of my beloved red roofs
Is dusted by this winter's deadly whiteness.
You hardly ever come to take the truth
Until the fallen sky revives and lightens.
The original poem in Russian: http://stihi.ru/2018/12/20/9026