Vladislav Khodasevich
Oh yes, I know the master never...

Oh yes, I know the master never
His work of digging graves can cease,
And yet the sky still gleams as ever
Above eternal Moscow’s peace.

And there, where death, with black keys clanging,
Was knocking in the yards so mean,
Today, from mountains overhanging
The noisy, cheerful sleighs are seen.

And here they run with children’s basket,
Beneath them muddy snow now creaks —
And pearl-white dove departs his casket
Flies into heaven’s azure streaks.

Above Plyushchikha he is winging
And over river’s snowy coat,
And in his wake with dashing ringing
His cries and whistles now they float.

Beneath, the boys their caps are twirling,
Their faces, carrot-like are red.
And so, the gods, amidst the swirling,
Behind them miss the blood they’ve shed.

Translated by Rupert Moreton