Arseny Tarkovsky
Tell me, little sister-soul...

Sing me of a little bluetit's
Quiet life across the sea...
From Winter Night by A.S. Pushkin

Tell me, little sister-soul,
Why'd you choose to slake your thirst
Not from Eden's clear bowl
But from ours on Earth?

It is too unsafe abode —
Human body, frail and dark.
Were you not a little bold
When you settled in my heart?

Can't a body get too tired,
Take a poison in the end?
You will leave me, as a migrant
Bird sets off for its homeland.

When you struggled, when you cared,
Following the earthly ways,
Seemed unbearable my share,
Was beyond my strength your weight.

But in those lands unknown,
When your flight's already made,
Can't it be? — You knock, and knock, and
Nobody unlocks the gate.

Sing, my soul, my little fiddler,
Of the earthly salt and pain,
Sing of how a lethal needle
Penetrates into the vein.

Sing, my sister, sing, the nomad,
Sing, my starving little tit,
Sing of deadly veil of snow
Shrouding a blooming sprig,

Of full-grown golden cereal
Beaten down by a hail...
Sing, don't stop if sunlight ceases,
Sing, because you are a singer,
Sing, my soul, and you'll be saved.

Translated by Natasha Gotskaya