Leonid Martynov
The river Silence

— Do you want to return
To the River of Silence?
—I do.
On the first night it freezes.
— But would you find a boat, even one,
And can you cross it
the River of Silence?
Will you not drown, in the snowy dark
On the night the river freezes?
— No, I won’t drown.
I know a house in the town.
If I knock on the window, they’ll open.
I know a woman. She’s ugly.
I never loved her.
— Don’t lie:
You did love her!
— No — we’re not friends: nor enemies.
I’ve forgotten her.
So, though it seems that the ferry’s destroyed
I want to float once more on the River of Silence
In the snowy dark,
on the night it freezes.

—The night is windy and damp.
Trembling this night, logs smolder in the stoves.
But whom will the logs warm as they burn out?
My advice is to think of warmer nights.
— Shall we go?
— Let us go.

From the woodshed, on their shoulders,
Her brothers will bring out the boat
And set it down on the Silence.
And snowstorm holds captive the river:
I shall not look at my companion
But will say to her only:
“Sit there, in the stern.”
She will say only:
“I'll bring my cloak
I’ll come straight away.”
We shall float into the gloom
Past the village of Wolf s Tail
Under the wooden bridge
Under the Tin bridge
Under the bridge without name —

I shall row into the dark
She will sit in the stern,
The stern oar in her hand.
But of course she won’t steer—
I’ll steer myself.
Snow melts on her cheeks
Clings to her hair.

— And how wide is the River Silence?
Do you know how wide?
We can hardly see the right bank —
A dim chain of lights...
And we shall set out for the islands.
You know them? There are two in the river.
And how long is the River Silence?
Do you know how long?
From the depths of midnight to noonday heights
Seven thousand eight hundred
Kilometers — the whole way the same
Profound silence!

In that snowy twilight
Ever duller the creak of oarlocks
And the voiceless spasms of fish
That jerk and die in the nets.
The boatmen leave the barges,
The pilots go home.
Invisible and silent
Are the banks of the Silence.
Slower and slower, gray seagulls
Batter the snowstorm with wings.

— But wait: what will you tell the woman?
— Seagulls batter the snowstorm with their wings.
— No, wait! What will you say to the woman?
— I don’t understand: what woman?
— She who bent over the oar in the stern.
— Oh: I’ll say: Be silent, don’t cry.
You’ve no right
The night when the east wind, the trumpeter,
Sounds the long call of the frost.
Listen!
There is my answer.
There is no River of Silence.
The silence is broken.
That is your fault.
No!
It is your happiness, your good fortune.
You yourself broke it,
That deepest Silence
Whose captive you were.

Translated by J. R. Rowland