I have forgotten the weather of childhood, The warm wind, the soft snow

I have forgotten the weather of childhood,
The warm wind, the soft snow.
On this earth, I suppose, there is no means
To give me back my childhood.

And so little remains
In my poor memory:
Cornflower roads
In the red sun of childhood days,

The smell of the sorrel berry,
Of juniper bushes,
And of fragrant, like a hospital,
Drying flowers.

All this I carry with me
And love it in any country.
With this I shall soothe my heart
If I should feel bitter.

Varlam Shalamov

Literal translation