to Marina Vlady
The branches of spruces are trembling with weight, The chirping of birds comes in shyly. You live in a forest so wild and entranced, From where an escape is unlikely. Let the bird-cherries dry in the wind like white lace, Let the petals of lilacs start raining, All the same, I will take you away from this place To the palace where flutes are still playing. Your world remains hidden from me and from sight By magic that warlocks have crafted. And you are convinced nothing equals this site, This forest, bewitched and enchanted. Let the leaves be untouched by the morning dew's grace, Let the moon be at clash with dark heavens, All the same, I will take you away from this place To the seashore to live in a térem. What day of the week and what hour of the day Will you walk to me with alertness? And when can I carry you gently away To where every search will be senseless. I will steal, if your soul can concur with the theft. Will my effort be lost and forsaken? Please agree on our sharing a common love nest, If the palace and térem are taken.
1 In 17th century Russia, terem is the upper story of elite home, usually occupied by living quarters for women.
 
Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2019