Marina Tsvetaeva
Roland’s Horn

Like a jester complaining of the cruel weight
of his hump – let me tell about my orphaned state.

Behind the devil there’s his horde, behind the thief there’s his band,
behind everyone there’s someone to understand

and support him – the assurance of a living wall
of thousands just like him should he stumble and fall;

the soldier has his comrades, the emperor has his throne,
but the jester has nothing but his hump to call his own.

And so: tired of holding to the knowledge that I’m quite
alone and that my destiny is always to fight

beneath the jeers of the fool and the philistine’s derision,
abandoned – by the world – with the world – in collision,

I blow with all my strength on my horn and send
its cry into the distance in search of a friend.

And this fire in my breast assures me I’m not all
alone, but that some Charlemagne will answer my call!

Translated by Stephen Capus