In Cleanov,
the evening is brought by stars on a platter,
to every household; the workday
had to end in peace and reverie.

Outside, sleighs sparkle as they glide,
fish thrash in the ponds.
In old houses,
bread is being broken.

Now,
on the streets,
I compare the setting of evening in the city
to that in the village; they share a common point—
the fire in the heart,
and also in the hearths...