Aleksandr Pushkin

The last one of clouds of scattered a tempest,
Just single you’re flying in azure, the prettiest,
Just single you’re bringing the sorrowful shade,
Just single you’re saddening day that is glad.

In nearest past, you were storming skies, mighty,
And were quite enwind by the powerful lightning,
And you were the womb for divine thunders birth,
And quenching with rain the insatiable earth. 

Enough, now vanish! Your time is not endless -
The earth is refreshed and away gone the tempest;
And now the wind, fondling leaves of the trees,
With pleasure is driving you out the sky bliss.   


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, July 12, 2004