Konstantin Balmont

To blend a sadness, that ne’er so sharp was,
   With admiration, that couldn’t e’en be minded,
   But can be else – with landslips in the highland.
Having got tunes… and speeded up blood flows,
To throw its fire into flooding verse
And weave all this, for gentleness of yours,
   In a love wreath – and if you’re waiting,
                                        silent, –
Order me more – I’m yours amid a toss
   Of the tenth wave – that celebrating giant.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2003