Innokenty Annensky
Square windows

Oh, moonlit, melting distances!
Oh, dark, snowy road! my
Tired soul is aching and
Will not let me fall asleep.

Across the stunted sweet peas.
Across the dead mignonette.
By means of square windows
I converse with the moon.

Humbly my thought-pilgrim
Has folded her two wings.
But not with entreaty is
Her brow’s repose misted.

“Do you remember those
Softly-blowing spring
Mornings, and how thin
Was her muslin veil?

Do you remember the silver-leafed
One among the hollyhock streaks.
When you did not dare remove
The fragrant veil from her hair?

And how you were worn out with
Anguish, so that you did not
Even know later whether her hair
Was tied in a bun, or twisted?”

— Be silent, remembrance,
Oh, my breast, do not ache! She
Was more desired by me because
Of the mystery and the moon.

For the silver-leafed enchantment
Of tulips on her veil, I will stand
Through a hundred liturgies,
I will exhaust myself in Lent!

“And do you know that she is here?”
— Is it possible, for so many years?
“Look: wrapped in her veil...
Do you recognize the narrow footprints?

Not divined so passionately,
In the living veil, like
Smoke, she is in the waves
Of incense above your cowl.”

— She... but only with little
Horns, with a quivering beard —
Across the stunted sweet peas,
Across the dead mignonette...

Translated by R. H. Morrison