The poem consists of basically 3-stress lines, rhyming a/b/a/b, with masculine/feminine rhyme alternation (masculine rhymes stress on last syllable; feminine rhymes stress on penultimate syllable, e.g. vysotY /chistotY; nAmi / kamNYAmi).
I have picked this poem because it appeals to me, not because I have tried translating it before. In general, I select poems on the simple and (for me) indispensable basis of liking them straight away. Sometimes on reflection some of these "first loves" disappoint, but generally immediate attraction is a reliable guide. This particular poem seems to be about the poet's sense of closeness to Nature. I was sent (by Inna Lisnianskaya's daughter) a video of Lipkin reading in the garden of their Peredelkino dacha. In the background one sees Inna making a slow way up the stairs to enter the house and pausing at the entrance, to look down at Semyon reciting poems in the garden.

Bearing in mind that this is a poem, which infringes upon no rules of composition, I make a first stab at it, finding the rhymes too hard.

And now to look, at least, for approximate rhymes (chimes?)

This is obviously clumsy, but I have never been adept at rhyming, unlike J. Brodsky. Russian, in any case, has built-in advantages in that it is a strongly accented and inflected language, thus making available a multitude of assonantal rhymes, which are not available in English. Brodsky would not acknowledge this difference and occasionally chanced upon a "new" rhyme in English, somewhat in the Ogden-Nash manner, often more suited, however, to comical, it seemed to me, than to serious verse.
A more productive approach, perhaps, is to depart from the text's formal qualities and to try writing a poem in English on a similar theme, incorporating as much as possible of the realia of the source text. This takes patience and seems more creative and respectful, having the advantage that one translates only poems to which one is responsive. This is what I shall now do, but the choice of this poem is arbitrary and, it now seems that, had I looked further, I might not have chosen it.
What the poem is saying is that the source is pure and burbling, or that burbling stones tell the spring something. To the paths among these rocks, its words are familiar, because they are kin to it. But I am not sure about that! How can a spring be kin to paths, even if these lead to it? But here, after all, is the crux of it all, of the poem. The spring is audible to all but not to the path, in spite of the kinship. It seems I must accept this.
What begins to become apparent is that poetry cannot be translated; more precisely that it can only be imitated, so it turns out that Robert Lowell of the Imitations is right; the fact that "imitations" are more admired becomes immediately understandable. Ted Hughes held a modified view of this Lowellian theory. He thought poetry could be translated literally and that this, in reality, was the best that could be done. But Hughes was an exception and his views are still not understood, assuming that I myself have understood them! Is there any point, one may ask, in translating poetry semantically or literally, as Hughes attempted to do with the Hungarian poet Janos Pilinszky? Ted Hughes was convinced that there was and it was surely true that his translations of Pilinszky or the Israeli Amichai, were at least as effective as poetic artifacts. Is this because his literalistic versions sound like Hughes originals? Another possible reason for their effectiveness has to do with the literalistic nature of much of the poetry, with which Hughes involved himself, about which I have written. I shall attempt to apply all this (with a kind of internal dialogue in italics) to this poem by Lipkin, while realizing that it cannot be done so cold-bloodedly!

Though semantically close, this will not do! Hence, I find myself attempting to reproduce the rhyme. What, though, if I abandon this apparently hopeless attempt and aim, rather, at metrical regularity?

Another attempt!

Not much better, but I suppose manipulating the poem in this way is, at least, familiarizing me with it? But isn't it also re-enforcing what I already know or suspect, i.e. that poetry is untranslatable?