Fedor Sologub

I composed these rhythmical sounds
To make lesser the thrust of my soul,
And to draw the heart’s endless wounds,
In the sea where the silver strings roll,

To make sound, like nightingales’ ode,
My poor dream’s ever beautiful voice,
And to force the song’s smile from lips closed
And blazed on by long sadness and loss.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March, 2001