Innokenty Annensky
Snow

I could have loved the winter,
But the burden is heavy.
Even smoke cannot
Escape into the clouds.

The sharply etched lines,
The unwieldy flight,
The pauperish blue
Of the tear-swollen ice.

But I love snow, weakened
By the easy life above,
Sometimes glistening white,
Sometimes purple lilac ...

And particularly thawing,
When, revealing the peaks,
It settles down weary
On a sliding precipice.

Immaculate dreams,
Like cattle in the mist,
On the agonizing brink
Of spring’s holocaust.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort and Lubov Yakovleva