A Ghost (Призрак), Anna Akhmatova

Akhmatova wrote this two years after the Revolution, in the winter of 1919

It’s early, but the hanging globes
Of rasping street-lamps glow are spitting,
More gayly, brightly, falling strobes
Of snowflakes’ glinting are now flitting.

Accelerating gliding pace,
As if the chase anticipating,
Beneath the blue’s mesh horses race –
The snow falls gently, unabating.

Without a move behind his sleigh
The gilded Cossack keeps his station,
With vacant glinting staring’s stray
Looks Tsar with manic animation.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Зажженных рано фонарей
Шары висячие скрежещут,
Все праздничнее, все светлей
Снежинки, пролетая, блещут.

И, ускоряя ровный бег,
Как бы в предчувствии погони,
Сквозь мягко падающий снег
Под синей сеткой мчатся кони.

И раззолоченный гайдук
Стоит недвижно за санями,
И странно царь глядит вокруг
Пустыми светлыми глазами.

Translation by Rupert Moreton

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