Nikolay Gumilev
The Winged Victory of Samothrace

In my night-time fever
I see you, O
Winged Victory of Samothrace,
reaching out your arms.

First night-silence runs
from you, then your blind
inexorable driving flight
brings giddiness, whirling sick.

Your crazy-bright eyes
laugh, and blaze,
and our shadows run behind us,
and can’t keep up, can’t keep up.

Translated by Alla Burago and Burton Raffel