Forest Arhip Kuindzhi (Kuindschi) (1842-1910)

FOREST

1
The forest thins, people leave,
This God-given forest grows sparse.
Its common to say, Were all the same there,
As if denying miracles.

There are enough miracles in this world,
Even a forest like this – human-made –
Grows thinner, but children still grow.
And the sky above the earth is vibrant.

2
He read the forest as he would the Bible,
Fascinated by the power of its theme.
He longed to understand the soul of the forest,
Seeing the patterns within the woods.

Gnawed bark on an alder tree,
A ravine that captivated with its depth.
And a squirrel – a rhyme in a verse,
With fur as golden as sunlight.

The forest is dense – like life itself is dense,
There are too many nuances to grasp about the forest.
From its depths to its heights,
The heavenly expanse is so wondrous.

3
An island of pine trees, rosy-hued,
Further in, you enter a dark spruce grove.
In autumn, the falling leaves in the forest
Will be soft and simple.

Here, a magpie flies off
To spread gossip among its neighbors.
A wolf will find the carcass of a young elk –
Left uneaten by a bear.

And in the ravines, there are countless burrows –
Baruch labyrinths.
Enter the forest – it fills your gaze,
There is a need for its paintings.

4
A clearing of chanterelle mushrooms – a circle,
Cut them, freeing them from the grass.
The play of sunlight – like a golden harp,
But I dont have time to pick russulas.