Oh, what a ball! The peak of nerves and sounds resonating! The hearts were pounding three instead the usual two. Besides, the gentlemen were asked to dance by ladies For a traditional white waltz - what a breath-taking, splendid view! And you, although your dancing skills are quite subpar, Wished to invite her to the dancing floor, But there are always urgent errands, chores to run: To help out someone, to get ready for the war. Sheís getting closer, gets more real as she strolls, - Inviting her tonight was your avowed intention; She comes herself to you and asks to dance a waltz, And like this waltz your blood is pulsing in your temples. You look so serene midst the ballroomís crescendo, But there, in the flickering flame of the candles, A shadow behind you is trembling and gives you away. You wildly swirled and swayed, and hands were gently laid, You easily could just walk with her across the sharpest blade. Donít stand now expecting some aid, as if yóu lost your way! If one sings with no soul, a white sound will escape in the air. If all lines have no rhyme but are rhythmic, they say: "It is called a white verse." If all colors are blended together at once, then thereís light, a white light. If all waltzes we know are combined into one, itís a waltz, a white waltz. The waltz was white, and thus, the worries were all ending, It brought the end of youthful dreams, pursuits, and games. Today, the gentlemen were asked to dance by ladies, And not because, and not because the former ones donít have the nerve. The men were elevated to the ladiesí rank, And heads were spinning fast, just like in days of old. But partners have the urgent errands, chores to run: To help out someone, to get ready for the war. This waltzís so white, itís whiter than the snow that falls; And you must swirl and swirl, preventing snow from ending! She came, inviting you to share a life with her, And you look pale, much whiter than this waltz and ceiling. You look so serene midst the ballroomís crescendo, But there, in the flickering flame of the candles, A shadow behind you is trembling and gives you away. You wildly swirled and swayed, and hands were gently laid, You easily could just walk with her across the sharpest blade. Donít stand now expecting some aid, as if yóu lost your way! If one sings with no soul, a white sound will escape in the air. If all lines have no rhyme but are rhythmic, they say: "It is called a white verse." If all colors are blended together at once, then thereís light, a white light. If all waltzes we know are combined into one, itís a waltz, a white waltz. Wherever thereís a ball, - it might be at the palace, At the Lyceum, or at the dancing hall that night, - In Russia, the gentlemen were asked by ladies To dance a round of white waltz at all times, and everything was white. Ignoring everyone and looking straight ahead, Through the depression, silence, woe, and reprimand, Our women always rushed to come to our aid, Their dancing hall extends to cover all our land. Wherever you will go, wherever youíll be sent, Recall that waltz: How pale you were! - And youíll be smiling. For you, from sea or heaven, they will always wait, And will invite to dance a white waltz of your homecoming. You look so serene midst the ballroomís crescendo, But there, in the flickering flame of the candles, A shadow behind you is trembling and gives you away. You wildly swirled and swayed, and hands were gently laid, You easily could just walk with her across the sharpest blade. Donít stand now expecting some aid, as if yóu lost your way! If one sings with no soul, a white sound will escape in the air. If all lines have no rhyme but are rhythmic, they say: "It is called a white verse." If all colors are blended together at once, then thereís light, a white light. If all waltzes we know are combined into one, itís a waltz, a white waltz.
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2022