Nikolay Rubtsov
In my room the light is still...

In my room the light is still.
It’s because of a night star’s ray.
Silently my mother will
Bring the water in the pail.

Flowers on the garden-bed
Are already wilted, bent.
Soon the boat on the river sand
Will be rotten to the end.

Shadows of the willow sleep
Casted in a lacy way.
Morrow I will under it
Have a rather busy day.

I will water all my plants
Thinking of my destiny,
I until the evening stars
Will contrive a boat for me…

In my room the light is still.
It’s because of a night star’s ray.
Silently my mother will
Bring the water in the pail...

Translated by Vyacheslav Chistyakov