—Mikhail Prishvin, Nature’s Diary, 1925, translated by L. Navrozov

Do you know how a hunter’s heart unfolds?
I walked over the snow—the crust held.
I stopped to listen.
The fox came towards me.
It takes no more than ten minutes to describe the features
Of the day. It’s only a split second a man
Needs to remove his safety-catch.
Yet when I glanced
At the safety-catch and removed it, it was too late.
I kept inshore.
I thought I heard a nightingale.
A blue animal path running across the vast field.
A full moon, a
Venus as large as my fist,
The Great Bear and the entire vaultful of stars.
What I saw over the sight was quite different from what
Could be seen with the ordinary eye.
My head was clear.
One lacks words to describe what the deep forest 
Is like at night when you know that the great birds
Are asleep overhead. I lack words to give
Even a pale description of all this marshland.
In the mist the artist stole up very close and took aim.
It was like aiming at the rising moon.
The mind Works in infinite spaces—yet haphazardly, spreading.