Afanasy Fet
I’ll say nothing whatever to you...

I’ll say nothing whatever to you,
I’ll not trouble you with it one bit,
And of thoughts harped upon all day through,
I don’t dare give the tiniest hint.

All day sleeping, the night flowers curl,
But when dusk past the grove drops and looms,
In soft silence the leaves all unfurl
And I hear how my heart itself blooms.

Yet at night comes the chill, I admit,
As my aching breast shakes... and I, too;
I’ll not trouble you with it one bit,
I’ll say nothing whatever to you.

Translated by Randi Anderson