I never knew you, never saw your face,

And in my memory your name holds no space.

Yet I am mourning you at this late hour:

To see the Sun you’ve lost forever power.

The Sun will never penetrate the ground

Where your eternal rest you found.

Almighty wind has lost the power

To wake your heart with scent of love,

That fills the air like whiff of flowers

Wafts over spring fields with the doves.

The heart where passion could be flaming

Like autumn fire in fireplace

Rests cold and still, no longer raving,

Abandoned in a state of grace.

In seventeen amazing years

You walked the Earth beneath the Sun,

What could have caused such awesome fears?

What could have made you grab the gun?

Spring night, the air is still and steamy,

But no star appears in sight.

They have no reason to be gleaming

On cobalt dome of the night.

Because this night is first of many

Of never-ending nights ahead.

The first one, just as sad as any

To see you lying, cold and dead.

Your cold, dead heart will never know

The tender touch of Summer Sun,

Your youthful lips will never glow

With passion for the Only One.

No woman’s heart will ever tremble

From your romantic, tender touch,

No dream to grace your memory’s temple,

And no nemesis to judge.

No chirping birds, no flower fragrance,

No watching of the setting Sun

Which drapes the sky in golden valance

To be adored by everyone.

From this night on, my dear stranger,

When you descend in frigid grave,

You’ll never ever see the seasons changing,

No Spring, no Fall, No Summer’s rave.

No yellow leaves, no drifting snow,

Just cold, hard pressure of the turf.

Forever. Evermore. Alone.

As long as Sun sends light to Earth.

From this night on, the stars go out,

Day will be night, the dark will reign,

The Sun will never warm the ground,

For you, consumed by grim decay.

On this night when your lifeless heart’s

Entombed beneath the ground,

May God fill up your poor soul

With what you’ve never found.

By Liana Margiva

Translated from Russian by Anatol Kardiukov