Pho­to­graph of Vaca­tion­ers in the Russ­ian Countryside

 

Where I won­der, are these melan­choly girls of ephemer­al youth ?
Olga, Iri­na and Masha, fee­ble autumn trees,
remem­ber the names of all those who once rest­ed in your shade,
have no more regrets for the years that slip by,
I myself have no oth­er way,
I too embraced these trees with trem­bling hands
I too loved unat­tain­able eternity.
There is no oth­er time for me except this past that con­tin­u­ous­ly drifts away,
there is no oth­er way for us Olga, Iri­na, Masha,
I have nev­er under­stood death.
And I too furi­ous­ly strike the earth with my cane,
help­less like a blind man.
 

Trans­lat­ed from Greek by Richard Pierce

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