Bulat Okudzhava
Song about a Moscow ant

To worship someone is my aspiration.
Imagine, just a simple ant of mine
Felt suddenly like kneeling in prostration,
Believing in his touch with the divine.

The ant then was bereft of peace and calmness,
So everyday was everything he saw
That lastly, in his image, in his likeness,
A goddess he created to his awe.

And on day seven, at a random moment,
The glow of night had shaped into her mold
Without a sign from heaven or an omen,
Light jacket was her cover from the cold.

Remembering no miseries nor blessings,
He let her in, he opened wide the door,
And to the windburned hands his lips were pressing,
And to the worn-out booties that she wore.

Two shadows crossed the doorstep, slowly flowing,
Without a word, they silently conversed —
As gods in heaven beautiful and knowing,
And sorrowful as dwellers of the earth.

Translated by Evgenia Sarkisyants