Winter evening after Alexander Pushkin

Tempest covers the sky with darkness,

Snow whirling whirlwinds without remorse

Now and then it  howls like a beast, wild

Now and then it cries like a  poor  child,

Now and then on the shabby roof shelter

Suddenly rustles with dried straw,

Now and  then a like some belated traveler,

It  knocks gently at our window.

Our shabby hut unfortunately

Is both sad and  filled with shadows.

Why are you, my old good miledit

Have you fallen silent at the window?

Or are you tired, with the tempest  howling

Or are you dozing under the buzzing

Of your spindle monotone singing

Let's drink, good friend with hug

Of my poor youth,  unfortunately there.

Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?

The heart will be much happier.

Sing me a song about  a titmouse,

Living quietly beyond the sea;

Sing me a song, like a girl in bouse

Went to get water in the morning.

A storm covers the sky with darkness,

Snow whirling very wild

Now and then she howls like a beast,

Now and then she cries like a child.