Mikhail Kuzmin

Has putting nets into dull waters,
To mantic hum of dark lime-trees,
A silent, thoughtful maiden watches
Scales of the fairy fish in streams.

They, with an animal’s emotion,   
Bend to a ringlet their tails,
Or strew the blue-green of an ocean -- 
So simple, transparent, light and frail.       

In her delight failed to expose 
The whole image, fixed by eyes,
She waits when, like a golden rose, 
The head of Orpheus will rise.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, December, 2000