Was it not youth that he was experiencing now, when coming out again on the other side of the wood he saw, in the bright slanting sunbeams, the graceful form of Varenka in her yellow dress and with a basket on her arm, stepping lightly past the trunk of an old birch, and when the impression of Varenka merged into one with the view that had so struck him with its beauty: the view of the field of ripening oats bathed in the slanting sunbeams and the old forest beyond, flecked with yellow, fading away into the bluish distance.
La impresión que le causara Vareñka se unió en él a una perspectiva que le sorprendió por su belleza: el campo de avena que empezaba a amarillear, anegado en los rayos oblicuos del sol, y más allá, el añoso bosque, también salpicado de manchas amarillas, que desaparecía en la lejanía azul...