Landscape
(Peizazh)
The mountains are clad in white-flannel breeches,
Black-braided seams, torrents tumble and vanish in the vales,
Haze here and there still hovers o'er hillsides,
Tufts of billowing wool.

The wind for a moment forgot its roar and rumble,
Snowy silence, boundless and virgin, clad
In the white splendour of long months of bridehood,
Mountain passes still retain their winter borage.

From afar they are bride and pensive bridegroom,
Gathered at noble wedding.
Towards them I pace, forgetting
Rice to throw over their ridges.