Mikhail Kuzmin
Muse

Has putting nets into dull waters,
To mantic hum of dark lime-trees,
A silent, thoughtful maiden watches
Scales of the fairy fish in streams.

They, with an animal’s emotion,
Bend to a ringlet their tails,
Or strew the blue-green of an ocean —
So simple, transparent, light and frail.

In her delight failed to expose
The whole image, fixed by eyes,
She waits when, like a golden rose,
The head of Orpheus will rise.

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver