Back to the country, to the garden dark,
Where lime-trees are so huge, so full of shade,
And lilies of the valley, sweet as maids,
Sturdily grows above the sturdy field,
There, there, in meadows stretching wide,
Where the sweet rye, far as the eye can see,
Moves noiselessly in tender, billowing waves,
And where the heavy golden light is shed
From out of rounded, white, transparent7 clouds:
There it is good....'
The reader is, very likely, already weary of my sketches9; I hasten to reassure10 him by promising11 to confine myself to the fragments already printed; but I cannot refrain from saying a few words at parting about a sportman's life.
Hunting with a dog and a gun is delightful12 in itself, für sich, as they used to say in old days; but let us suppose you were not born a sportsman, but are fond of nature all the same; you cannot then help envying us sportsmen.... Listen.
Do you know, for instance, the delight of setting off before daybreak in spring? You come out on to the steps.... In the dark grey sky stars are twinkling here and there; a damp breeze in faint gusts13 flies to meet you now and then; there is heard the secret, vague whispering of the night; the trees faintly rustle15, wrapt in darkness. And now they pull the hood16 over the cart, and lay a box with the samovar at your feet. The trace-horses move restlessly, snort, and daintily paw the ground; a couple of white geese, only just awake, waddle17 slowly and silently across the road. On the other side of the hedge, in the garden, the watchman is snoring peacefully; every sound seems to stand still in the frozen air--suspended, not moving. You take your seat; the horses start at once; the cart rolls off with a loud rumble18.... You drive--drive past the church, downhill to the right, across the dyke.... The pond is just beginning to be covered with mist. You are rather chilly19; you cover your face with the collar of your fur cloak; you doze20. The horse's hoofs21 splash sonorously22 through the puddles23; the coachman begins to whistle. But by now you have driven over three miles... the rim24 of the sky flushes crimson25; the jackdaws are heard, fluttering clumsily in the birch-trees; sparrows are twittering about the dark hayricks. The air is clearer, the road more distinct, the sky brightens, the clouds look whiter, and the fields look greener. In the huts there is the red light of flaming chips; from behind gates comes the sound of sleepy voices. And meanwhile the glow of dawn is beginning; already streaks27 of gold are stretching across the sky; mists are gathering28 in clouds over the ravines; the larks29 are singing musically; the breeze that ushers30 in the dawn is blowing; and slowly the purple sun floats upward. There is a perfect flood of light; your heart is fluttering like a bird. Everything is fresh, gay, delightful! One can see a long way all round. That way, beyond the copse, a village; there, further, another, with a white church, and there a birch-wood on the hill; behind it the marsh31, for which you are bound.... Quicker, horses, quicker! Forward at a good trot32!... There are three miles to go--not more. The sun mounts swiftly higher; the sky is clear.... It will be a glorious day. A herd33 of cattle comes straggling from the village to meet us. You go up the hill.... What a view! The river winds for ten miles, dimly blue through the mist; beyond it meadows of watery34 green; beyond the meadows sloping hills; in the distance the plovers35 are wheeling with loud cries above the marsh; through the moist brilliance36 suffused37 in the air the distance stands out clearly... not as in the summer. How freely one drinks in the air, how quickly the limbs move, how strong is the whole man, clasped in the fresh breath of spring!...
And a summer morning--a morning in July! Who but the sportsman knows how soothing38 it is to wander at daybreak among the underwoods? The print of your feet lies in a green line on the grass, white with dew. You part the drenched39 bushes; you are met by a rush of the warm fragrance40 stored up in the night; the air is saturated41 with the fresh bitterness of wormwood, the honey sweetness of buckwheat and clover; in the distance an oak wood stands like a wall, and glows and glistens42 in the sun; it is still fresh, but already the approach of heat is felt. The head is faint and dizzy from the excess of sweet scents44. The copse stretches on endlessly.... Only in places there are yellow glimpses in the distance of ripening45 rye, and narrow streaks of red buckwheat. Then there is the creak of cart-wheels; a peasant makes his way among the bushes at a walking-pace, and sets his horse in the shade before the heat of the day.... You greet him, and turn away; the musical swish of the scythe46 is heard behind you. The sun rises higher and higher. The grass is speedily dry. And now it is quite sultry. One hour passes another.... The sky grows dark over the horizon; the still air is baked with piercing heat.... 'Where can one get a drink here, brother?' you inquire of the mower47. 'Yonder, in the ravine's a well.' Through the thick hazel-bushes, tangled49 by the clinging grass, you drop down to the bottom of the ravine. Right under the cliff a little spring is hidden; an oak bush greedily spreads out its twigs50 like great fingers over the water; great silvery bubbles rise trembling from the bottom, covered with fine velvety51 moss52. You fling yourself on the ground, you drink, but you are too lazy to stir. You are in the shade, you drink in the damp fragrance, you take your ease, while the bushes face you, glowing, and, as it were, turning yellow in the sun. But what is that? There is a sudden flying gust14 of wind; the air is astir all about you: was not that thunder? Is it the heat thickening? Is a storm coming on?... And now there is a faint flash of lightning.... Ah, this is a storm! The sun is still blazing; you can still go on hunting. But the storm-cloud grows; its front edge, drawn53 out like a long sleeve, bends over into an arch. The grass, the bushes, everything around grows dark.... Make haste! over there you think you catch sight of a hay barn... make haste!... You run there, go in.... What rain! What flashes of lightning! The water drips in through some hole in the thatch-roof on to the sweet-smelling hay.... But now the sun is shining bright again. The storm is over; you come out. My God, the joyous54 sparkle of everything! the fresh, limpid55 air, the scent43 of raspberries and mushrooms! And then the evening comes on. There is the blaze of fire glowing and covering half the sky. The sun sets: the air near has a peculiar56 transparency as of crystal; over the distance lies a soft, warm-looking haze48; with the dew a crimson light is shed on the fields, lately plunged57 in floods of limpid gold; from trees and bushes and high stacks of hay run long shadows.... The sun has set: a star gleams and quivers in the fiery58 sea of the sunset... and now it pales; the sky grows blue; the separate shadows vanish; the air is plunged in darkness. It is time to turn homewards to the village, to the hut, where you will stay the night. Shouldering your gun, you move briskly, in spite of fatigue59.... Meanwhile, the night comes on: now you cannot see twenty paces from you; the dogs show faintly white in the dark. Over there, above the black bushes, there is a vague brightness on the horizon.... What is it?--a fire?... No, it is the moon rising. And away below, to the right, the village lights are twinkling already.... And here at last is your hut. Through the tiny window you see a table, with a white cloth, a candle burning, supper....
Another time you order the racing60 droshky to be got out, and set off to the forest to shoot woodcock. It is pleasant making your way along the narrow path between two high walls of rye. The ears softly strike you in the face; the cornflowers cling round your legs; the quails61 call around; the horse moves along at a lazy trot. And here is the forest, all shade and silence. Graceful62 aspens rustle high above you; the long-hanging branches of the birches scarcely stir; a mighty63 oak stands like a champion beside a lovely lime-tree. You go along the green path, streaked64 with shade; great yellow flies stay suspended, motionless, in the sunny air, and suddenly dart65 away; midges hover66 in a cloud, bright in the shade, dark in the sun; the birds are singing peacefully; the golden little voice of the warbler sings of innocent, babbling67 joyousness68, in sweet accord with the scent of the lilies of the valley. Further, further, deeper into the forest... the forest grows more dense69.... An unutterable stillness falls upon the soul within; without, too, all is still and dreamy. But now a wind has sprung up, and the tree-tops are booming like falling waves. Here and there, through last year's brown leaves, grow tall grasses; funguses stand apart under their wide-brimmed hats. All at once a hare skips out; the dog scurries70 after it with a resounding71 bark....
And how fair is this same forest in late autumn, when the snipe are on the wing! They do not keep in the heart of the forest; one must look for them along the outskirts72. There is no wind, and no sun; no light, no shade, no movement, no sound: the autumn perfume, like the perfume of wine, is diffused73 in the soft air; a delicate haze hangs over the yellow fields in the distance. The still sky is a peacefully untroubled white through the bare brown branches; in parts, on the limes, hang the last golden leaves. The damp earth is elastic74 under your feet; the high dry blades of grass do not stir; long threads lie shining on the blanched75 turf, white with dew. You breathe tranquilly76; but there is a strange tremor77 in the soul. You walk along the forest's edge, look after your dog, and meanwhile loved forms, loved faces dead and living, come to your mind; long, long slumbering78 impressions unexpectedly awaken79; the fancy darts80 off and soars like a bird; and all moves so clearly and stands out before your eyes. The heart at one time throbs81 and beats, plunging82 passionately83 forward; at another it is drowned beyond recall in memories. Your whole life, as it were, unrolls lightly and rapidly before you: a man at such times possesses all his past, all his feelings and his powers--all his soul; and there is nothing around to hinder him--no sun, no wind, no sound....
And a clear, rather cold autumn day, with a frost in the morning, when the birch, all golden like some tree in a fairy tale, stands out picturesquely84 against the pale blue sky; when the sun, standing85 low in the sky, does not warm, but shines more brightly than in summer; the small aspen copse is all a-sparkle through and through, as though it were glad and at ease in its nakedness; the hoar-frost is still white at the bottom of the hollows; while a fresh wind softly stirs up and drives before it the falling, crumpled86 leaves; when blue ripples87 whisk gladly along the river, lifting rhythmically88 the heedless geese and ducks; in the distance the mill creaks, half-hidden by the willows; and with changing colours in the clear air the pigeons wheel in swift circles above it....
Sweet, too, are dull days in summer, though the sportsmen do not like them. On such days one can't shoot the bird that flutters up from under your very feet, and vanishes at once in the whitish dark of the hanging fog. But how peaceful, how unutterably peaceful it is everywhere! Everything is awake, and everything is hushed. You pass by a tree: it does not stir a leaf; it is musing89 in repose90. Through the thin steamy mist, evenly diffused in the air, there is a long streak26 of black before you. You take it for a neighbouring copse close at hand; you go up--the copse is transformed into a high row of wormwood in the boundary-ditch. Above you, around you, on all sides--mist.... But now a breeze is faintly astir; a patch of pale-blue sky peeps dimly out; through the thinning, as it were, smoky mist, a ray of golden yellow sunshine breaks out suddenly, flows in a long stream, strikes on the fields and in the copse--and now everything is overcast91 again. For long this struggle is drawn out, but how unutterably brilliant and magnificent the day becomes when at last light triumphs and the last waves of the warmed mist here unroll and are drawn out over the plains, there wind away and vanish into the deep, tenderly shining heights....
Again you set off into outlying country, to the steppe. For some ten miles you make your way over cross-roads, and here at last is the high-road. Past endless trains of waggons92, past wayside taverns93, with the hissing94 samovar under a shed, wide-open gates and a well, from one hamlet to another; across endless fields, alongside green hempfields, a long, long time you drive. The magpies95 flutter from willow1 to willow; peasant women with long rakes in their hands wander in the fields; a man in a threadbare nankin overcoat, with a wicker pannier over his shoulder, trudges96 along with weary step; a heavy country coach, harnessed with six tall, broken-winded horses, rolls to meet you. The corner of a cushion is sticking out of a window, and on a sack up behind, hanging on to a string, perches97 a groom98 in a fur-cloak, splashed with mud to his very eyebrows99. And here is the little district town with its crooked100 little wooden houses, its endless fences, its empty stone shops, its old-fashioned bridge over a deep ravine.... On, on!... The steppe country is reached at last. You look from a hill-top: what a view! Round low hills, tilled and sown to their very tops, are seen in broad undulations; ravines, overgrown with bushes, wind coiling among them; small copses are scattered101 like oblong islands; from village to village run narrow paths; churches stand out white; between willow-bushes glimmers102 a little river, in four places dammed up by dykes103; far off, in a field, in a line, an old manor-house, with its outhouses, fruit-garden, and threshing-floor, huddles104 close up to a small lake. But on, on you go. The hills are smaller and ever smaller; there is scarcely a tree to be seen. Here it is at last--the boundless105, untrodden steppe!
And on a winter day to walk over the high snowdrifts after hares; to breathe the keen frosty air, while half-closing the eyes involuntarily at the fine blinding sparkle of the soft snow; to admire the emerald sky above the reddish forest!... And the first spring day when everything is shining, and breaking up, when across the heavy streams, from the melting snow, there is already the scent of the thawing106 earth; when on the bare thawed107 places, under the slanting108 sunshine, the larks are singing confidingly109, and, with glad splash and roar, the torrents110 roll from ravine to ravine....
But it is time to end. By the way, I have spoken of spring: in spring it is easy to part; in spring even the happy are drawn away to the distance.... Farewell, reader! I wish you unbroken prosperity.
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1
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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hemp
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| n.大麻；纤维 | |
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nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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13
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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waddle
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| vi.摇摆地走；n.摇摆的走路(样子) | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sonorously
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| adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；堂皇地；朗朗地 | |
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puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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plovers
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| n.珩，珩科鸟（如凤头麦鸡）( plover的名词复数 ) | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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glistens
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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mower
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| n.割草机 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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quails
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| 鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 )； 鹌鹑肉 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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scurries
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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80
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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83
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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picturesquely
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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magpies
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| 喜鹊（magpie的复数形式） | |
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trudges
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| n.跋涉，长途疲劳的步行( trudge的名词复数 ) | |
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perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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100
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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glimmers
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| n.微光，闪光( glimmer的名词复数 )v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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103
dykes
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| abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 )；坝；堰；沟 | |
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104
huddles
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| （尤指杂乱地）挤在一起的人（或物品、建筑）( huddle的名词复数 )； （美式足球）队员靠拢（磋商战术） | |
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105
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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106
thawing
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| n.熔化，融化v.（气候）解冻( thaw的现在分词 )；（态度、感情等）缓和；（冰、雪及冷冻食物）溶化；软化 | |
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107
thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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108
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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109
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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110
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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