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Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev - Spring Storm
Work rating: Low

I love a storm in early May
When springtime`s boisterous, firstborn thunder
Over the sky will gaily wander
And growl and roar as though in play.

A peal, another - gleeful, cheering…
Rain, raindust… On the trees, behold!-
The drops hang, each a long  pearl earring;
Bright sunshine paints the thin threads gold.

A stream downhill goes rushing reckless,
And in the woods the birds rejoice.
Din. Clamour. Noise. All nature echoes
The thunder`s youthful, merry voice.

You`ll say: `Tis laughing, carefree Hebe -
She fed her father`s eagle, and
The Storm Cup brimming with a seething
And bubbling wine dropped from  her hand.
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