MELANCHOLY

It seems a gate has opened between the clouds forthright

And through it passes pearl-white the lifeless queen of night, sleep,

oh, sleep in quiet, among a thousand stars

Within your tomb of purple and in your silver vase -

Your stately mausoleum, the veils of heaven's vault -

Your sweet, benighted monarch, whom we with love exalt!

So rich in vast expanses, the world lies wrapped in frost,

Which now both field and village with shining veil has glossed;

The air itself is sparkling; the white frost seems to stain

The walls and ruins scattered upon the desert plain,

The solitary churchyard keeps watch with crooked crosses:

On one them alighting, a grey owl sharp notes tosses,

The belfry posts are cracking, with bellboard sounds vibrating;

The half-transparent demon, while through the air migrating

Has lightly touched the copper with its indented wing

And causes it to hollow, and mournfully to ring.

The ruined hermitage,

Lies desert, sad and pious, of venerable age;

Through broken doors and windows the wind blows cold and sear

It seems it exercises with words that you can hear;

Inside, on walls, the pillars and iconostasis,

All that remains are shadows and outlines sad, remiss;

As priest, a grig is weaving a dark thought, fine withal,

As verger drums the deathwatch within the aging wall.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Tis faith that paints the icons in sacred churches set,

While in my soul it rooted fine tales I still regret.

But life's devouring billows, storms raging right and left

Just melancholy shadows and sad contours have left.

I seek my world but vainly, within my wearied brains,

For magic crickets hoarsely charm out sad autumn strains;

My heart is just a desert that hands in vain are heating.

Its throb is like a deathwatch upon a coffin beating.

When on my life I ponder, it seems a steady flow –

A tale retold but slowly, by mouths I do not know –

As if I'd never lived it, or in it played some part!

Who is the man that tells me the story learnt by heart

Since I still listen to him - and laugh at what is said

As if at strangers' sorrows?... It seems I've long been dead.

Translated by Andrei Bantas

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