Innokenty Annensky
A moonlight night as winter departs

We are at a small station.
We are forgotten by the night,
By the still, moonlit night.
In a little forest glade...
Delirium-or are we plainly
At a small station and
Forgotten by the night?
You have gone far away.
Tired steam locomotive...
The boards are pale yellow,
Silvery yellow, and
Lifeless, thawing hoar
Frost clings to the ties.
Have you really gone to the
Right spot, tired steam
Engine? Such stillness in
The moonlight, or is this
Only a dream, these
Shadows, these locomotive
Gasps, and, silvered
Over by the pearly moon,
This long black
Station guard with
His useless lantern
On the patterned shadow?
Ding, ding, ding! — and
It’s past, past this
Dream, so irreparably,
So irremediably, not
Sung through to the end.
And ringing somewhere
Scarcely perceptibly.

Translated by R. H. Morrison