Na sontse uomny les zarell,
v doline para vereyet tonkiy,
i pesnyu rannuyu zapel
v lazuri zhavoronok zvonkiy.
On gollosisto s vyshiny
poyot, na solnyshke sverkaya:
"Vesna prishla k nam molodaya,
ya zhe poyu prikhod vesny.
Zdes’ tak legko mne, tak radushno,
tak bespokoĭno, tak vozdushno;
vsyu Bozhiy mir zdes’ vizhu ya.
I slavlyu Boga pesn’ moya!"
– Vasily. Zhukovsky (1783–1852)
The dark forest gleams red with the sun’s rays,
a gentle mist whitens the valley,
and the lark’s morning song
rings out in the azure sky.
From the heights in resounding tones
he sings, glimmering in the sun:
“Young spring has come to us,
I’m here to sing of her arrival!
I am so light and joyful here,
in the boundless, airy skies;
from here I see God’s entire world.
And with my song I praise Him!”