Konstantin Batyushkov
As I was leaving Albion`s shore, mist-covered...

    As I was leaving Albion's shore, mist-covered,
O'erwhelmed by leaden waves it seemed to sink from view.
    Behind the ship a halcyon still hovered
Whose quiet voice gave heart to all our sailor crew.
    The slap of waves, the ev'ning sea breeze drowsing,
The same unchanging creak and flutter of the sails,
    The cry of helmsman from the deck arousing
The watchman wave-lulled there and leaning by the rails —
    All things induced a mood of meditation.
I stood close by the mast, entranced and sunk in thought,
    And through the haze and darkness' slow invasion
The northern luminary's kindly light I sought.
    My mind became engrossed in past emotion,
The land where I was born, the sweetness of those skies.
    But soon the moaning wind, the rocking of the ocean
Induced a languorous oblivion on my eyes.
    I leaned, quite given up to dreaming,
And then — was it a dream? — he stood there in the night,
    My comrade who had perished in the fight,
An envied death, by Pleisse's waters streaming.
    The shade did not affright: his brow
    Preserved no trace of wounding bestial;
Like mornings fresh in May, pure gladness glowed there now,
And all about his face recalled a soul celestial.
"'Tis you, then, comrade sweet, the friend of better days!
    'Tis you, then?" I exclaimed. "Oh, you who fell sublimely!
Was it not I that stood above your grave untimely,
Against the background of Bellona's fearful rays?
    Did I then, with my fellows vying,
Inscribe your noble deeds on oak trees with my sword,
Escort your shade to gain its heavenly reward
    With sobs and prayers and bitter crying?
Shade unforgettable! Make answer, brother brave!
Or were those past events but idle dream-creation:
All, all — the bloodless corpse, the ritual, the grave —
A figment friendship formed in my imagination?
Oh, say one word to me, some sound familiar lend
    Once more, my eager ear caressing,
And let this hand of mine, O unforgotten friend,
Take yours and love lie in the pressing..."
But as I flew to him ... the lofty spirit fled
Into the blue abyss unclouded overhead
Like smoke, a meteor, a specter of the midnight,
    Was gone — and slumber left my sight.

All round lay fast asleep, in brooding silence lapped.
The mighty elements themselves seemed hardly waking.
Lit only by a moon, now dim and cloud-enwrapped,
With zephyr scarcely felt, the waves were barely breaking.
But, as for me, all calm had long since vanished hence.
    To overtake that ghost my soul felt driven,
Still hoping to detain my visitor from heaven-
O thou, my brother dear! O thou, the best of friends!

Translated by Alan Myers