«Века плывут...» 1990
Translated by Larisa Schultz ©


The eons flow, like giant whales, along their seas of silence.
Their even way, like mine, is sad. But there's a limit to mine.
The wave forever is chasing me, in smoke, its huge mane heaving:
The evil spirit, the water god, wills it to muddle my mind.

No fear I know; but so deep is the wave's cold-blooded malice,
Tormenting, crushing, with only one thought adorning my tired brow:
Will my head succeed in running away from the wave's enormous throat?
And if it does, what will be the price? But if it doesn't, why so?

My bride'll get tired waiting for me, but she won't wear mourning;
A wealthy neighbor will visit her, she will not show much pride.
Their kin will have them engaged by March, and married after Easter,
And all my life will be flooded then by the darkest ever tide...

Oh evil spirit! Emerge from the haze! Reveal yourself before me!
While in the sky the moon still shines, I want to see what you're like.
Will I become ashes after a glimpse, or will my eyes never open?
Will you, oh Satan, take fancy to me, or will God keep me alive?