Arseny Tarkovsky
Eurydice

A human body ‘s bare;
A singleton, god’s jesting.
The soul is bloody weary
Of such a solid casing.
A silver dollar matches
Its eyes, and rivals ears,
The skin — all scars and scratches —
Stretched to the bones adheres.

Out through the eyes aspired
Into the skies it fires
To ride an icy spire
In a chariot of flyers.
The soul hears from its prison,
It senses from the grave
The rattle of rainy season,
And hum of breaking wave.

Like naked body sinning,
A soul without a body.
It makes no sense or meaning,
No poetry, no study —
A riddle with no answer:
Is there a comeback chance
Once you have done the dance floor
Where no one is to dance.

I’m dreaming of another
Soul dressed in strange attire.
It darts ablaze, untethered
From coyness to desire;
As flames of spirit light-like
It swiftly travels the land,
And leaves behind fresh lilac —
Sweet musing at the end.

Eurydice’s ill fortune
Don’t pity, child of nature,
Run on and blithely hasten
The copper wheel of Future
So long as you can hear
Responding to your steps —
Resound cheerful, sear,
The earth rings in your ears.

Translated by Maya Jouravel