A girl was singing in the old church choir,
About the ships that sailed in the mist,
About those abroad, whose lives turned dire,
And those who’ve lost their happiness and bliss.
Up in the cupolas, her voice had filled the room,
The sun, upon her shoulders, made them white,
And everyone was watching from the gloom
The way her dress sang out in the light.
And they all thought that joy was close at hand,
That ships were stationed in a peaceful bay,
That those abroad, were living there, content,
And basking in the soothing, balmy rays.
Her voice was gentle and the light was sweeping
Up, by the altar gates, where, all alone,
Aware of the Secret, - a child was weeping
That no one was ever again coming home.
By Alexander Blok
Translation by Andrey Kneller