Leonid Martynov
On the shore

On the shore
I met a man,
On the seashore,
On the shore where the wind was resolved
To throw sand in my eyes,
On the shore where a sulking dog
Had sniffed me over, while spying
On me from on high, the moon’s sphere
With its craters stared out of the dark,
And lanterns jutted forward as if on guard,
Chasing my shadow ahead of me.

And the man did not even glance back
As though he had not even noticed me.
And I was very grateful to him,
And his absent-mindedness
Was truly precious to me. For I’m no lord,
And he, in no way, my servant,
And there’s no cause, troubling and being troubled,
To feel each other out from head to foot,
Even if our reason dictates
That vigilance is still, alas, appropriate!

Translated by George Reavey