Along the cliff, above the abyss, on the very edge
I whip my horses - I rush them
Somehow I don’t have enough air - I drink the wind, swallow the fog,
I feel with a disastrous enthusiasm: I am dying! I am dying!

A little slower, horses, a little slower!
Don’t listen to the tight lash!
But the horses I have are fastidious
And I didn’t have time to live, I won’t have time to finish my song.

I will give my horses to drink, I will finish singing my verse -
At least for a little more I’ll stand on the edge

I will rot, like fluff a hurricane will sweep me off a palm,
And they will drag me, galloping, in a sleigh through the snow in the morning.
Switch to an unhurried trot, my horses!
At least by a little, but prolong the way to the last shelter!

A little slower, horses, a little slower!
Don’t take orders from the whip and lash!
But the horses I have are fastidious, -
And I didn’t have time to live, I won’t have time to finish my song.

I will give my horses to drink, I will finish singing my verse -
At least for a little more I’ll stand on the edge

We made it on time - nobody is a latecomer when visiting God;
But why do the angels sings with such evil voices?
Or did the bell wither away from sobs?
Or do I yell at the horses, to not carry the sleigh so fast?

A little slower, horses, a little slower!
I beg you not to rush so!
But the horses I have are fastidious...
Since I didn’t have time to live, at least I could finish my song!

I will give my horses to drink, I will finish singing my verse -
At least for a little more I’ll stand on the edge!