We would like to have more of these Poetic Tuesdays, sadly the good translations are hard to come by.

WINTER NIGHT

And far and near blizzards raced,
To every endland.
A burning candle lit the place,
A burning candle.

As to a swarm of summer moth
Are flame and glow,
The window attractive was
To flakes of snow.

Grew on the pane frost-molded quilt
Of arcs and angles.
A candle lit the desk and quill,
A burning candle.

On the enlightened ceiling easel
Fell shapes retracing
Entangled arms, entangled knees,
Fates interlacing.

And thuddingly two little shoes
Were dropping down,
And wax in tears, heat-melted lose,
Dripped on the gown.

And melted all in silver gloom,
Obscure and swirling.
A burning candle lit the room,
A candle burning.

The light would swing in draft, and change,
And passions stormy
Spread their wings, like an archangel,
Cruciformly.

That winter, blizzards held the pace,
And calls returning,
A burning candle lit the place,
A candle burning.

Translation by Alexander Givental

Thanks for your hard work in bringing to the world the “Real Mother Russia”.

Saludos from Spain

Valiant

Saludos from Spain

Valiant