Georgy Ivanov
To Petersburg, then Paris too...

To Petersburg, then Paris too
I find I’m carried by the ocean.
I see them, and I listen, through
Fog’s shroud and timbrel’s loud commotion —

With nightingales now shines the night,
Like melting snow, the stars have vanished
And souls — that can’t escape their plight —
With groaning disappear from sight,
With groaning they’re for ever banished.

Translated by Rupert Moreton