Innokenty Annensky
January fairytale

The witch’s mask was glittering,
Her crutch rapped in its measured
Way... My New Year fairy tale.
Are you not my last fairy tale?

Lips were not praying for happiness,
The repose was filled with shadows.
And the lilies’ open goblets
Exhaled an unearthly anguish.

And soothing the dimmed glances, the
Flowers were speaking with anguish: “We are
Those same ones that we were, always those;
We shall be, we are eternal — and you?”

Be silent! Is it not better to dream
When the coals are hardly smoldering?
The January sun is not fierce.
Its crystals are so glowing...

Translated by R. H. Morrison