Fyodor Sologub
The Jar

Inside a jar with painted flowers
A surly servant carries wine.
In skies above the darkness lowers,
The road is rough and no stars shine.
With straining eyes to guide his going.
He peers into the darkness dim.
Lest the wine flood and overflowing
Drip down and soak his breast for him.

I also bear a jar, and filled it
With sufferings of long ago;
I lulled and cunningly distilled it.
My poison of remembered woe.
By devious ways I travel bearing
My jar that brims with evil, lest
Someone should come with hands uncaring
And spill it down upon my breast.

Translated by Cecil Maurice Bowra