By Alexander Blok (1880-1921)
Trans. by Jon Stallworthy and Peter France
A girl was singing in the choir with fervour
of all who have known exile and distress,
of all the vessels that have left the harbor,
of all who have forgotten happiness.
Her voice soared up the dome. Glistening,
a sunbeam brushed her shoulder in its flight,
and from the darkness all were listening
to the white dress singing in the beam of light.
It seemed to everyone that happiness
would come back, that the vessels all were safe,
that those who had known exile and distress
had rediscover a radiant life.
The voice was beautiful, the sunbeam slender,
but p by the holy gates, under the dome,
a boy at communion wept to remember
that none of them would ever come home.
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