Innokenty Annensky

The river else doesn’t wholly reign,
But pale-blue ice is drowned now;
And clouds are not blue again,
But sun had drunk the snow out.

Through a half-opened door,
You fret a heart with rustle; though… 
You are not else in love; but lor!
You can’t not fall in love tomorrow.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, February, 2001