Winter morning

Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning!
Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning,
Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!
Cast sleep away, I beg, and, rising,
Yourself a northern star, the blazing
Aurora, northern beauty, meet.

Last night a snowstorm raged, remember;
A turbid haze swam in the somber,
Wind - ravaged sky, and through the gray
Murk of the clouds the moon shone dully,
And you sat listless, melancholy ...
But now - look out the window, pray -

'Neat lucid skies of clearest azure,
Great snowy carpets, winter's treasure,
A rich and dazzling sight, lie spread.
The wood is etched against them darkly,
The first, rime - starred, are green and sparkling,
In shiny mail the stream is clad.

A mellow glow like that of amber
Illumes the room ... Its good to linger
Beside the gaily crackling stove,
And think and dream ... But let our honest
Brown mare without delay by harnessed
That we may take a slag ride, love.

We'll give free rein to her, and lightly,
The snow of morning gleaming brightly,
Skim over it, and, full of glee,
Cross empty fields and empty meadows,
A once green wood with trees like shadows,
A stream and bank long dear to me.

Alexander S. Pushkin