A poem ("An evening in the spring") by a young Ivan Turgenev. You can read the original here.
O golden beams that wave and prance
Above the land in restful lay;
O spacious fields in silent trance
That glisten, gorged on dewy day;
O streams that purl in valley's dark
Beyond the springtime thunder's break,
And lazy winds sweep aspen bark,
As wings wax lightly in their wake.
O lofty woods, O soundless thrill,
So green and dark this forest deep!
Where thickest shade can linger still
And court these leaves deprived of sleep.
O star awake in sunset's flame,
O beauteous star where love can't die ,
My soul's as light as spirit's name,
As light as childhood years gone by.