By Alexander Blok
I’m nailed to a tavern’s bar.
I’m drunken all and long ago.
No matter. All my dear luck
Is swept by troika
(* three horses, harnessed together in the wagon or sledge)
in the silver smoke…
It flies with troika, it has merged
In snows of time, in ages blue…
Only my soul was swamped all
By a silver dark from the horse’s shoe.
Into the damp of dark the sparkes it sends,
And those ones enlighten night…
The sleighbell under bow – babbles
About loss of happiness and luck.
But only the golden harness
Is seen in night… all night is heard…
But you – my soul… Soul muffled…
Is drunken all… Is drunken all…
26 october 1908
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