YEVSEI-1
Yevsei stepped out onto the porch, and his chest heaved with the beauty that opened up before his peasant eyes. The frosty air, sharp and crisp, rang out over snowdrifts sparkling with a thousand rainbows; the sun flung sheaves of sparks to the ground, and little rays of light scattered in every direction, bathing the countryside in a blessed glow. The distant forest, dressed in its white fur coat, looked like a toy — the air, clear to the point of total transparency, had distorted the distance, turning the mighty and far-off into the miniature and near, and in the toy-like little trees one could just make out the snow-dusted oaks and maples. The wondrous, simple, almost timid beauty of his native land delighted him, invigorated him, refreshed him, made his blood surge the way it had seventy years ago, when Yevsei first saw the light of day.
— Eh, bit too early for us to be dying yet, — the old man breathed out, and took his first step onto the first snow.
YEVSEI-2
Yevsei stepped out onto the porch, and his chest heaved with the beauty that had suddenly opened up before his peasant eyes. The thin shoots of winter wheat, barely visible yesterday, were today pushing eagerly up through the rich black earth, greening the humped field beyond the village in abundance and promising a fine harvest. Dozens of streams — ringing little children of the melted snow — traced the faint contours of the low hills in glittering flecks of reflected sun and joined somewhere near the forest, to carry their waters to the sea in a single shared channel. There too, by the forest, high up and out of sight, some unseen little bird was trilling, back from its winter grounds and now singing with all its heart at its return to its native land. Spring the beauty had finally reached these unassuming but soulful parts and transformed them in an instant, filling Yevsei’s blood with joy, vigor, and freshness, making it surge the way it had seventy years ago, when he first saw the light of day.
— Eh, bit too early for us to be dying yet, — the old man breathed out, and took his first step.
YEVSEI-3
Yevsei stepped out onto the porch, and his chest heaved with the beauty that had suddenly opened up before his peasant eyes. Beyond the garden fence, dahlias, gladioli, and nasturtiums bloomed in a thousand magical colors, tended by Yevsei’s own careful hand, and further off the mighty grain stood in thick ranks, rolling in waves under the gusts of a mischievous wind. A ripe, bready scent swirled in the air, turning the peasant’s head and stirring the hardworking little bees, who since first light had been tirelessly hauling honey in their stingers from the distant clover patch by the forest. A bright blue sky without a single cloud hung over the boundless fields like a magic dome, glimmering, ringing, brimming with delight, making his blood surge and calling to mind the distant day when Yevsei first saw the light of day.
— Eh, bit too early for us to be dying yet, — the old man breathed out.
YEVSEI-4
Yevsei stepped out onto the porch, and his chest heaved with the beauty that had suddenly opened up before his peasant eyes. Mighty flares of red-and-yellow madness played over the distant forest, battling riotously with autumn’s gray enchantment, their boundless riot of color pushing away the bleak day of bare branches and, irrevocably, without a trace, forever shedding their maple and oak leaves. The pale autumn sky, given voice by a trilling wedge of cranes, trembled faintly over the mown stubble in the rays of a weary sun, chasing off the low gray clouds, whispering to summer: “Don’t go. Stay a while,” and a light, mottled breeze swirled and played with heaps of fallen leaves, driving them across the field, far, far away…
— Time for ad patres*, — the old man breathed out, took out his shotgun, swallowed as much of the barrel as he could, and pulled the trigger.
* ad patres — to the forefathers (Lat.)