1 minute read
photograph by Anonymous
Symbolist poets, Blok discloses far less than what can be seen, thought or experienced, leaving the rest a secret for the reader to uncover.
ENGLISH
Advertisement
translated by Anastasia McAuliffe
Our meetings would happen at sundown. You would paddle the boat down the bay. I had fallen in love with your white gown As my delicate dream slipped away.
There was strangeness in our silent meetings. Far ahead – on the long spit of sand Several candles lit up in the evenings. Someone thought of a pale beauty’s hand.
The cerulean quiet rejected All the closeness and fire we bore… We would meet in the fog of the sunset By the ripple and reed of the shore.
There’s no sadness, no love and no grudges, All has faded, departed and gone… The memorial service, your white dress, And your golden oar rowing along.
May 13, 1902
