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🚧Skylark

Alyaksei Rusetski
Translated by

SKYLARK

Beyond the sheaves, beyond the rye-field’s blaze, beyond the dark forest, but seeming near, the sun goes down in a rosy haze, like a crimson disc, a huge disc here.

The sun goes down in a crimson haze, but on high the light-winged skylark sports, still trembling, sings and can’t finish his lays — for him the summer day’s too short.

My life, too, is short…

Translated by Walter May__.

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Collections: Belarusan Lyric poetry