Alexander Pushkin
Evil spirits

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night
I drive across the naked country,
The bells go ding! and ding, again!
Lonely and lost, I gaze in terror
Upon the unfamiliar plain.

"Drive faster, fellow!" "There's no help, sir,
The horses find the going rough;
The blizzard pastes my eyes together;
The roads are buried, sure enough.
There's not a track for me to follow;
We've lost our way. What shall we do?
The devil's leading us in circles
And right across the meadows, too.

"There, there he is! He's playing with us;
He spat at me, you might have seen;
He's here, befuddling the poor horses,
Hell push them into the ravine;
Now he pretends that he's a milepost
Where there was never such a mark;
He flashed by like a spark and vanished,
Vanished into the empty dark."

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night.
We have no strength to go on circling;
The bell is silent suddenly;
The horses halt. . . . What is that yonder?
Who knows? A stump? A wolf, maybe?

The storm is vicious now, it's howling;
The nervous horses snort, oh hark!
It's he who dances in the distance,
Alone his eyes burn in the dark;
Once more the horses hurry onward,
The bells go ding! and ding, again!
Those throngs I see are evil spirits
Gathered upon the whitening plain.

Innumerable, various, horrid,
Demoniac creatures are in flight,
Whirled round like leaves in deep November
Under the wild moon's troubled light . . .
What numbers! Whither are they driven?
Their chant has such a plaintive pitch:
Is it a house sprite they are burying
Or do they marry oflE a witch?

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night.
A dizzy host of swarming devils
Goes rushing through the topless sky;
It tears the heart of me to hear them,
Their desolate, long, lamenting cry.

Translated by Babette Deutsch