On a February day

There are days,
when you dont know,
has spring really come to Siberia?

And the sun shines joyfully,
and sends its rays into the ether.

The frosty air, only, confuses,
and the snow, similar to kefir.

The soul is content, and flies,
but the fur coat weighs down the body.

And the shadows: blue-blue,
as if there is ultramarine in them.
And the World, as if, has changed,
in the course of joyful viewing.