Frost on the Glass (Мороз на стеклах), Dmitri Kedrin

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Kedrin wrote this at the height of the war, in 1943. Victory was still far from certain.

The windows are completely frigid,
And scripted has the February frost
Some tangled grasses, white and rigid
With sluggish silver roses, crossed.

And so, upon the pane it sketches
A landscape of a sunny place.
It seems the roses that it etches
Are winter’s yearning for spring’s grace.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

На окнах, сплошь заиндевелых,
Февральский выписал мороз
Сплетенье трав молочно-белых
И серебристо-сонных роз.

Пейзаж тропического лета
Рисует стужа на окне.
Зачем ей розы? Видно, это
Зима тоскует о весне.

Translation by Rupert Moreton

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