The Night

I shall not see my homeland anymore, Nor hear the distant rumble of its waters; From far away – dark forces awaken, Desire takes root in all things obscured…

And in the swamps, fog flows silently, Golden sun rests too, a flight of spirits, Down on the lake’s rippling, tender shapes, Murmur, dulcet sounds of seduction.

What lingers here is the night; night And silence hums above the shadowy entreaties, And floating dreams of my homeland… The twilight is bearing its fruit – the night!

• Alexandre Blok