Ти Подала Мені Водиці

That summer smelled of haying time
And scythes were shining in the dew.
You carried water to us barefoot
From the well for me first.
I drank without looking at you
Because on the haystack
There she was—a red-haired girl, as if from the sky, joyful, wild, like spring itself.
You gave me water to drink, cold from your warm hands.
While
I, looking at the one on the stack, laughed across the whole meadow.
I thought water was just water, but it was your love, and