Ivan Bunin
The day will come; I’ll disappear...

The day will come; I’ll disappear,
While in this selfsame empty room,
That table, bench, icon austere
The same contours of space consume.

And just as now will flutter in
That silken butterfly serene,
To rustle, palpitate and ding
Against the ceiling’s bluish-green.

And the sky’s horizon, cerulean glow
Will peer in, gaze through this window,
While the steady unruffled blue of the sea
Beckons toward emptiness: “Come. Follow me.”

Translated by U. R. Bowie