"My blood boiled and my heart ached - with such a sweet and ridiculous buzz: I was always waiting for something and afraid of something, I wondered about everything and was ready for everything, the play of my imagination was alive, it always fluttered around the same images, like party swallows around the church tower at dawn; I became thoughtful, sad, and even cried; but through the tears and sadness, which sometimes a melodious line of poetry, sometimes a beautiful evening stole into my heart, the joy of young sparkling life burst forth like spring grass.
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Author
Ivan TurgenevAll Translations
All Translations
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My blood boiled and my heart ached - with such a sweet and ridiculous buzz: I was always waiting for something and afraid of something, I wondered about everything and was ready for everything, the play of my imagination was alive, it always fluttered around the same images, like party swallows around the church tower at dawn; I became thoughtful, sad, and even cried; but through the tears and sadness, which sometimes a melodious line of poetry, sometimes a beautiful evening stole into my heart, the joy of young sparkling life burst forth like spring grass.
""A vérem forrt, s a szívem sajgott - olyan édes és nevetséges búval: mindig vártam valamit, s féltem valamitől, mindenen csodálkoztam, s mindenre készen álltam, képzeletem játéka eleven volt, mindig ugyanazon képek körül csapongott, mint a partifecskék hajnalban a templomtorony körül; tűnődő lettem, szomorkodtam, sőt sírtam is; de a könnyeken és a szomorúságon át, melyet hol egy dallamos verssor, hol egy szépséges este lopott a szívembe, a fiatal pezsgő élet örömérzése úgy ütközött ki, mint a tavaszi fű."