Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka, Nikolai Gogol
How entrancing, how luxurious is a summer’s day in Ukraine! How tediously hot those hours are, when the midday glitters in stillness and heat, and an immeasurable azure ocean, bending over the ground in a voluptuous canopy, seems to have fallen asleep, fully submerged in bliss, holding and squeezing her beauty in its airy embrace! There is not a single cloud. Not a single word uttered in the fields. It is as if everything has died; only up above, in the heavenly depths, trembles a lark, and silver songs float down airy steps to the enamoured earth, and occasionally, a gull’s cry or the ringing voice of a quail resonates in the steppe. Lazy and mindless, as if aimlessly wandering about, oaks stretch up to the sky, and blinding strikes of sunbeams light up picturesque masses of leaves, casting shadows dark as night on others, upon which strong winds might sprinkle gold. Emeralds, topazes, rubies of ethereal insects pour over colorful gardens, overshadowed by stately sunflowers. Grey haystacks and golden bundles of wheat set up camp in the fields, roaming its immensity. Bent down by the weight of their fruit, wide branches of cherries, plums, apples, pears; the sky and its pristine mirror — the river flanked by green, proudly standing frames… how full of sensuality and bliss is the Ukrainian summer!
From “The Fair at Sorochintsy“
