November means winter, dark and cold and ice,
And it means clouds, behind which our light hides,
But one day differed from all the colder rest;
The sun came out, and with us brightness blessed.
Oh, sun, it’s been so long since you’ve arrived,
So long since you’ve spread your light and shine!
You make the white seem bright as holy fire,
And gleam upon our old cathedrals’ spires.
Oh fresh and bright, your face of heaven’s gift!
You do far more than just the heart uplift;
You shed such joy upon this city here,
This city founded by a ruler-king named Peter.
Oh, how the layers of the earth’s fresh snow
Peacefully under you, sun, do glow!
Sparkling with promise which you give –
The promise of spring, the season of all that lives.
How your face fills up the cloudy air,
And clears away the darkness with no care,
Softening the ice with tender rays,
Offering us warmth in many ways!
Though only six hours the sun did shine that day,
I still felt warmth and radiance, that Tuesday.
And on my walk home, to the metro train
I was a new song, not winter’s grim refrain.
St. Petersburg, your sun will hide no more,
Soon spring will birth upon your northern shore.
Your sun will come again and show its face,
And will the darkness and all the snow erase.
