Innokenty Annensky
Nightmares

“You are waiting? You are nervous? This
Is delirium. You are going to open up
To him? No! Understand this: a madman
Is knocking at your door; God knows where
And with whom he has spent the entire
Night, ragged, and his speech wild,
And his hand full of pebbles; at any moment he
Will empty the other hand, he will pelt you with
Dry leaves, or he will think of kissing you, and
Traces of tears will be left in the tangle of
Plaits, if you succeed in hiding your face
From his lips, confused and painfully crimson.
. . . . .
Listen!.. I was only scaring you: That one
Is far away, he is dead... I lied. And the
Complainings, and whisperings, and rappings,
All this is the “blood’s rustling,” the voices
Of pain, which we endure, either I or you...
Or were the whirlwinds taken prisoner, and were
Howling? But no! You are calm... Only your
Lips are slightly touched by something pale...
I’m a fool... the meeting here was arranged with
Someone else... Now I understand it all: the
Fright, the faintness and the moist shining of
Your shielded eyes...” They knock? They are
Coming? She rose... I look-she has turned the lamp low,
It is pink... Now she has let her plaits
Fall down, the plaits flew up and fell...
Now she comes to me... and we are in fire,
In the one fire... Now hands are twining
Round me and dragging me to her, and the hair
Both pricks and caresses... Such is it, a
Man’s mind, that proud one, not deserving either
Palpitating hearts or moist and rosy heat!..
. . . . .
And suddenly I became an entirely different being...
The bed... the candle alight... the rain
Lisping in a melancholy tone. I had slept and dreamed.

Translated by R. H. Morrison