My Crystal Winter - revise 2

(revise 2, Jan 28, 2010)

There is not
too much to do
in the village in winter

When the horse,
all the cattle and poultry
have already been fed
and well watered,
tidy yard shoveled clean,
kids and young pretty wife
cheerful and satisfied

I am lying above,
on the big Russian stove*
lazy, sleepy, uncombed,
full and happy;
big log house is heated up hot
and the frost outside,
in his vain dreadful rage,
darkly chatters
with his sharp icy teeth

River’s frozen and
is hibernating
under the half-meter layer
of ice,
and all the children are skating
with deafening cries
and sonorous laugh

Winter!
O, my holly winter!
What a blessed and ripe time
of my long earthy life!

Tidy warm house,
laziness, cleanness,
true beauty wife,
fatty thick shchi*, meat and potatoes
today
and every God's day!

Certainly, then
Russian bath on each Saturday.
Clean linen shirt after bath
and a slow small cut-glass
of crystal-cold vodka
with a few ruby cowberries
and a thin slice of pinky-white fat
and a couple of salt milk mushrooms*,
crispy, spicy and fresh

Then ice fishing and hunter,
slow sleigh ride through still woods -
and what else
a calmed tired heart may desire!
Peace and quiet
all the day every day...

Weeks will pass
and another hot summer will come
with all its new concerns,
with young calves, heavy tillage,
hay-making, wood stocking
and abundant new yield

Yet
but now,

but right now
I am lying above
on the big Russian stove
and the birch woods are crackling
tenderly so and so somnolent,
singing me sweet lullaby.

Early twilight flows in
through the patterned white window
just to stress
bliss of passed winter day;
dogs are barking at stars
somewhere far in the dark
and the wind utters low
his long howls in the chimney.

And I find out myself
sliding slowly
right into sweet viscous dreams
of my far and vague childhood
and
eternal white winter...


Lord,
O, my Lord!
And how blessed I am!

Thank you, Heavenly Father
for another day
of my peaceful being
here between the soft folds
of this lost
and forsaken world
of my long crystal winter!

----------------------------------------------
Notes:
* Russian stoves have a special wide place to sleep on the upper part of it, almost under the ceiling.
* izba - a Russian village log house
* shchi - cabbage soup, a Russian traditional dish
* salt milk mushrooms – a traditional Russian appetizer

--------------------------------
Pavel Nichkov

****************************
My Crystal White Winter (revise 1, Jan 14, 2010)
---------------------------------
[font=Georgia] [blue]
There is
not too much to do in the village
in winter

The horse
and all the cattle and poultry
have been already fed
and watered,
and the yard shoveled,
the children
and the young wife
are cheerful and content

I am lying above,
on the Russian stove*
lazy, uncombed and sleepy,
warm, full and satisfied;
the izba*
is heated up hot
and the frost out,
in vain anger,
is chattering with his sharp icy teeth

The river is frozen,
hibernating under the half-meter
layer of ice
and the children are skating
with loud cries and laugh

Winter!
O, white clear winter!
What a blessed time of my earthy life!

Laziness, sleep, cleanness and
warm house,
fatty thick shchi*,
meat and potatoes
every God's day!

And then
Russian baths on Saturday.
A clean linen shirt after
and a small crystal glass
of cold vodka
with a few ruby cowberries
and a thin slice of pinky-white fat
and a couple of crispy salt mushrooms,
spicy and fresh

Ice fishing, hunter, 
slow sleigh ride through the forest -
what else a tired heart may desire!
Peace and calm all the day every day...

Weeks will pass
and another summer will come
with its new concerns,
young calves, tillage,
hay-making, wood stocking...

But now,
but right now
I am lying above
on the Russian stove
and the birch woods are crackling
tenderly and fondly,
singing me a sweet lullaby.

Early twilight flows in
through the patterned white window
just to stress
the bliss of the passed winter day.
Dogs are barking
somewhere out in the dark
and the wind is uttering his long howls
in the chimney.

And I am sinking so slowly
right into sweet dreams
of my childhood
and eternal white  winter...


Lord, O, my Lord! And how blessed I am!

And I say: thank you, Heavenly Father
for another day of my peaceful being
here between the soft folds
of this lost and forsaken world
of my long crystal winter!

----------------------------------------------
Notes:
* Russian stoves have a special wide place to sleep on the upper part of it, almost under the ceiling.
* izba is a Russian village house built of logs.
* shchi - cabbage soup, a Russian traditional dish

--------------------------------
Pavel Nichkov
***************************************
[/blue][/font=Georgia]
My Crystal Winter (initial version)
---------------------------------------
[img src=/upload/images/IMG_1968-1400.JPG]
(My contribution to the Winter topic)[blue]

There is
not too much to do
in winter in the village

The horse and all the cattle
and poultry are already fed
and watered

The yard is shoveled,
the children and the young wife
are cheerful and content

I am lying on the Russian stove*
lazy, uncombed and puffy of sleep,
warm, full and satisfied

The izba* is heated up hot
and the frost outside in vain anger
is chattering with his icy teeth

The river is frozen under the half-meter layer of ice
and the children are skating
with loud cry and laugh

Winter! O, winter! What a blessed time!
Laziness, sleep, cleanness and warm house.
Fatty shchi* and meat and potatoes every God''s day

And Russian baths on Saturdays.
A clean fresh shirt after and a glass of
crystal vodka with a slice of pink fat and salt mushrooms

Hunter, ice fishing, winter funs
and then to the stove again…
peace and calm all the day every day

Weeks will pass and another spring will come
with its new concerns, tillage,
young calves, hay-making and wood stocking…

But  right now
I am lying above on the Russian stove,
and the birch woods are crackling tenderly and fondly.

Early twilight comes down to stress the bliss of the day.
Dogs are barking somewhere out in the dark
and wind is uttering long howls in the chimney.

O Lord, o, how blessed I am!
Thank you Heavenly Father for another day
in this lost and forsaken white crystal world!

-------------------------
Notes:
* Russian stoves have a special wide place to sleep on the upper part of it, almost under the ceiling.
* izba is a Russian village house built of logs.
shchi* - cabbage soup
[/blue]
--------------------------------
Pavel Nichkov