The wind. obstinately, as if insisting on having its way, pushed Levin back and, tearing the leaves and blossoms off the lime trees and rudely and strangely uncovering the white branches of birches, bent everything in one direction: the acacias, the flowers, the dock leaves, the grass, and the crests of the trees.
Il vento pareva insistere ostinatamente, fermava Levin e, strappando le foglie e i fiori dai tigli e rendendo spogli, informi e strani i rami bianchi delle betulle, piegava tutto da un sol lato: le acacie, i fiori, la bardana, l’erba e le cime degli alberi.