He thinks the water becomes ice,
Snow on the lashes... Steam billows –
High above the evening forest,
Looking at where the Blizzard Matures...
See, my faithful friend,
Between the moon, in the gaps of the clouds,
Heavily clouded, glow?
This is a Blizzard maturing sprout! –
So the poem grows in the soul,
Hiding the hidden meaning between the lines.
A Blizzard is sure to happen!
Because the meaning of it shines
In every cell of the non-empty heavens,
In every corner of the river bends,
Where did the clouds slumber yesterday,
Bayushki-Bayu sang the old forest.
Ice and Blizzard-are inevitable!
Melts on the eyelash frost tender?
Or is it tears on the cheeks,
Happiness? "I want to believe Pete.
And creates a snowstorm its Suite.
And the underlying meaning flies to the feet.