Nikolay Dubovskoy's Frosty Morning (1894).
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Winter Evening
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  The storm wind covers the sky, 
  Whirling the fleecy snow drifts;
  Now it howls like a wolf,
  Now it is crying, like a lost child,
  Now rustling the decayed thatch
  On our tumbledown roof,
  Now, like a delayed traveller,
  Knocking on our window pane.
   
  Our wretched little cottage
  Is gloomy and dark.
  Why do you sit all silent,
  Hugging the window, old gran?
  Has the howling of the storm
  Wearied you, at last, dear friend?
  Or are you dozing fitfully
  Under the spinning wheel's humming?
   
  Let us drink, dearest friend
  To my poor wasted youth.
  Let us drink from grief: where is the glass?
  Our hearts at least will be lightened.
  Sing me a song of how the bluetit
  Quietly lives across the sea.
  Sing me a song of how the young girl
  Went to fetch water in the morning.
   
   
  The storm wind covers the sky,
  Whirling the fleecy snow drifts;
  Now it howls like a wolf,
  Now it is crying, like a lost child,
  Let us drink, dearest friend
  To my poor wasted youth.
  Let us drink from grief: where is the glass?
  Our hearts at least will be lightened.
   
   
   
   
   
Click to see it in Cyrillic again:
   
There's a lot of kak in it (forgive the pun).