Alexander Blok
I’m ten years old. I light a wick

He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but
the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth
and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of
the bridegroom’s voice.
From John III.29

I’m ten years old. I light a wick
And shield the censer’s nascent flame.
Without a word or thought, she sits
Upon that shore and calls my name.

I love the whispered evening prayer
At White Church by the quiet rill,
The hamlet in the sunset’s glare,
And twilight’s murky, pale blue still.

I, humble to its tender glance,
Admire beauty’s mystery
And by the church, along the fence
Toss snow-white flowers in front of me.

The misty veil will later drop,
The groom will quit the altar’s dais,
And from the forest’s jagged top
Will stream forth dawn’s first nuptial rays.

Translated by Max Thompson