Aleksandr Blok

So melodiously and airily,
The princess sang about spring,
That I told her, “Oh, princess-fairy,
Only for me you’ll cry and sing.”

On shoulders mine lay her arms, flashing.
I heard the gentle: “No, good-bye. 
Take your sharp sword. Arm self for slashing.
I’ll save you through your way and fight.

You will return from a long road –
Young, faithful to our native soil.
And I’ll preserve my ice and cold,
Amidst the crystal tower’s walls.

In long looks, gladness will be here,
And, quietly, our years will pass,
In moats will be water, clear,
Round the castle – timeless rustle.

I’m ready for this meet, belated,
I’ll stretch my arms to you and sing
For you, the bearing from battle – 
On the victories lance – a spring.”

Blue curtains had been dropped by distance
On you, the castle, and all place.
The way is long. Farewell, my princess.
I’m questing for the young spring’s flames. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, October, 2002