Fyodor Tyutchev
The East, uncertain, silent falls...

The East, uncertain, silent falls,
An edgy stillness fills creation…
What is it? Sleep or expectation,
Now near or distant daybreak calls?
The mountain’s crown is turning white,
O’er woods and dales the mist is creeping,
The hamlets doze, the towns are sleeping,
But lift your gaze to heaven’s height…

Behold, above is heaven’s vault:
It seems to blush with secret passion,
More brightly, in more lively fashion
It now succumbs to sun’s assault,
Another minute and through all
The boundless atmosphere’s expanses
You’ll hear great peal as now advances
The bursting sun’s new victory call.

Translated by Rupert Moreton