Konstanin Vanshenkin

The match, that just was lighted,
A halo of pure gold,
The one, who had united
Light with Dark in World.

Short, not worth the mention
Time’s, but it contains, 
Insubordination
To all colds and rains.

Nights are longer ours,
But a blissful sight: 
There’s a little house
With a light inside.

On crossroads lingers 
Darkness from each side,
But a hut of fingers
Sheds a feeble light.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September, 2002