Nikolay Aseev

The springy rain flogged bushes slim,
Wind wailed o’er the dig-out’s mound…
This night I saw you in my dream,
And saw your little distant town.

And on what lands I were not else,
What winds weren’t whistling me around,   
I need not more happiness,
Than that that you live on the ground. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March, 2001