Izumrud Kulieva

Have seen the graveyard of the ancient ships? – 
The realm of quiet waves, of legends, sunk in silence,
Of empty decks and paints which lost their colors,
Of all these rusty, fully tired ships…

The masts stay there like crosses on grave-mounds,
Like craving ravens, circle over gulls,
And by gray waves, spread like cool lead around,
Just shades of dead ships, as reflections, pass.

This ship was named “The Pilgrim” long ago,
Oh, wind, start blow as the brave and might! – 
You must be big and gay in every blow:
Let sails make noise again in their flight,
As do old oaks in the alley’s rows. 

And let this ship stream forward for a chance,
And break through this dark prison to the Ocean,
To living tales, to far lands’ bluish fortune! –
But sleeps a ship, and tears pour from my eyes.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September 28, 2001