From The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov

Oh my childhood, my innocent childhood
Happiness awoke with me every morning,
It was just like this, nothing has changed.
All, all white.

After the dark dismal autumn and the cold cold winter
You are young again, full of happiness,
The angels of heaven have not abandoned you.

Oh, if only I could free my neck and shoulders
From the stone that weighs them down.
If only I could forget my past.

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