Innokenty Annensky
Anguish of the slow drops

O drops in the stillness of
Night, rattle of the drowsy
Spirit: trembling, they swell
And fall evenly and precisely.

In the stixless-sleepless night
I cannot help waiting for their
Clang; the lonely candle’s wick
Winks and flares up, grieving.

And it seems that, hiding, I must
Attend at a strange marriage,
Understanding the hopeless union
Of two lives dwindling in the gloom.

Translated by R. H. Morrison