Afanasy Fet
While lounging in a chair, I looked up at the ceiling...

While lounging in a chair, I looked up at the ceiling
Where, teasing my imagination,
A circle hangs above the quiet lamp,
And spins just like a ghostly shadow.

Within the flicker there's a trace of autumn sunset:
As if, above the rooftop and the garden,
Unable to fly off, afraid to land,
Dark flocks of blackbirds circle...

No, it's not wings I hear, but hooves at the front gate!
I hear the trembling hands...
How chill the pallor of a lovely face!
How bitter parting's whisper!..

Lost and in silence, I survey the distant road
Beyond the dimming garden, —
While the impatient flock of blackbirds,
Unsheltered, circles still.

Translated by A. Wachtel, I. Kutik and M. Denner