By charmer Winter wound,
Glamoured, stands the forest stark,
’Neath the snow fringe around –
Motionless, without sound –
Glistening with a wondrous spark.
And it’s standing, so candid –
Neither vital nor beyond –
To a fairy dreamland banded,
Quite fettered, quite stranded
With a feather-light bond…
Should the wintry sun fixate
On it with the slants lukewarm –
In it, naught will trepidate,
It’ll all flash and coruscate
With its radiant form.
---
«Чародейкою Зимою…», 1852;1886
Tyutchev F. By charmer Winter wound...
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