How fair this spot

(Здесъ   хорошо)

by

Sergei Rachmaninov

How fair this spot. I gaze to where
The golden brook runs by.
The fields are all inlaid with flowers,
The white clouds sail on high.

No step draws near, such silence reigns,
Alone with God, I seem;
With Him, and with the hoary pines,
And thee, my only dream.

(Poem: Glafira Galina)
(Trans: Rosa Newmarch)

How fair this spot

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