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Devils
Storm-clouds hurtle, storm-clouds hover;
Flying snow is set alight
By the moon whose form they cover;
Blurred the heavens, blurred the night.

On and on our coach advances,
Little bell goes din-din-din.
.
.

Round are vast, unknown expanses;
Terror, terror is within.


-- Faster, coachman! "Can't, sir, sorry:
Horses, sir, are nearly dead.

I am blinded, all is blurry,
All snowed up; can't see ahead.

Sir, I tell you on the level:
We have strayed, we've lost the trail.

What can WE do, when a devil
Drives us, whirls us round the vale?

"There, look, there he's playing, jolly!
Huffing, puffing in my course;
There, you see, into the gully
Pushing the hysteric horse;
Now in front of me his figure
Looms up as a queer mile-mark --
Coming closer, growing bigger,
Sparking, melting in the dark.
"

Storm-clouds hurtle, storm-clouds hover;
Flying snow is set alight
By the moon whose form they cover;
Blurred the heavens, blurred the night.

We can't whirl so any longer!
Suddenly, the bell has ceased,
Horses halted.
.
.
-- Hey, what's wrong there?
"Who can tell! -- a stump? a beast?.
.
"

Blizzard's raging, blizzard's crying,
Horses panting, seized by fear;
Far away his shape is flying;
Still in haze the eyeballs glare;
Horses pull us back in motion,
Little bell goes din-din-din.
.
.

I behold a strange commotion:
Evil spirits gather in --

Sundry, ugly devils, whirling
In the moonlight's milky haze:
Swaying, flittering and swirling
Like the leaves in autumn days.
.
.

What a crowd! Where are they carried?
What's the plaintive song I hear?
Is a goblin being buried,
Or a sorceress married there?

Storm-clouds hurtle, storm-clouds hover;
Flying snow is set alight
By the moon whose form they cover;
Blurred the heavens, blurred the night.

Swarms of devils come to rally,
Hurtle in the boundless height;
Howling fills the whitening valley,
Plaintive screeching rends my heart.
.
.



Translated by Genia Gurarie July 29, 1995.

Copyright retained by Genia Gurarie.

email: egurarie@princeton.
edu
http://www.
princeton.
edu/~egurarie/
For permission to reproduce, write personally to the translator.
Written by: Alexander Pushkin

Book: Shattered Sighs