Andrei Bely
On the mountains

Wedding wreaths crown the mountains.
I’m ecstatic... I’m young.
And all over my mountains
Such a pure chill is hung.

And behold — to my rock
Came a gray-haired hunchback, shuffling-stumbling.
And the gift that he brought
Was pineapples from an underground dungeon.

O he danced — wearing bright crimson-red.
Praised the sky’s azure glow.
He swept up with his beard
Whirlwinds of silver-blizzarding snow.

With a cry
Deep as gravel
He threw into the sky
The pineapple.

And then arching a line.
Lighting up its environs,
The pineapple fell — brilliant with shine
Through the unknown,

Radiating a glow
As if dew of gold ducats were falling...
They agreed down below:
«It’s a disk of pure flame — a sun shining.»

Golden fountains of fire,
Or else heavenly dew,
Dew like crystal and red as a pyre,
Brightly Hew
Down and bathed the rocks too.

Then I poured out some wine in a glass,
Sneaked aside for a moment,
And I drenched the hunchback
With a light, foamy torrent.

Translated by Vladimir Markov and Merrill Sparks