Page:Songs of Russia.djvu/13



The strong wind is gathering the storm-clouds together Above the gray plain of the ocean so wide. The storm-finch, the bird that resembles dark lightning, Between clouds and ocean is soaring in pride.

Now skimming the waves with his wings, and now shooting Up, arrow-like, into the dark clouds on high, The storm-finch is clamoring loudly and shrilly; The clouds can hear joy in the bird’s fearless cry.

In that cry is the yearning, the thirst for the tempest, And anger’s hot might in its wild notes is heard; The keen fire of passion, the faith in sure triumph— All these the clouds hear in the voice of the bird.