Nikolay Zabolotsky
Last love

The car shuddered and stopped,
They stepped into the evening spaces,
And work-worn the driver sank
Exhausted over his wheel.
Far off, through the windows,
Trembled fiery constellations.
The old man, with his lady friend,
Stopped by the flowerbed.
And heavy-eyed, the driver
Was startled by their two faces
Lost forever in each other,
Oblivious of themselves.
A faint glow emanated
From each of them, and the summer’s
Departing beauty wrapped them
In its multifold embrace.
Like glasses of blood-red wine,
There were flame-headed cannae there,
And plumes of gray columbine
And gold-disked ox-eye daisies.
This brief spell of happiness
Enfolded the lovers like a sea,
Though grief could be felt in the offing
And autumnal days were near.
And drawing closer to each other,
These homeless children of night
Silently walked in a floral circle,
In the electric glare of the lights.
And the car stood there in the dark,
Its motor shuddering,
And the driver smiled wearily,
Winding down his window.
For he knew that summer was ending,
That rainy days were to follow,
That their song was long ago over,
Which, mercifully, they did not know.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort