Alexander Blok
You say that I’m asleep, and you...

You say that I’m asleep, and you
Laugh over me, humiliating
And you would force me to repeating
A hundred times “My love is true”.

Your southern voice is soft, your grace
The grace of a gazelle recalling
But I come to you from a place
Of storm where endless snows are falling.

Strange the light valse’s echoes seem
A stifling cloud above you lowers.
For me you are a lovely dream
That glitters through the snowy showers.

I am afraid to call you by
Your name. A name — what need for saying?
But let me feast my greedy eye
Upon your southern beauty straying,

Upon your face forgotten quite.
That calls to memory unavailing
Days fleeting, days of joy unfailing
Slain by a snowstorm in the night.

Translated by Cecil Maurice Bowra