Caravan
by Boris Timofeev
transl. by Ryszard P. Kostecki
We met strangely and strangely will disperse,
With a tender smile our romance is over.
But if we go back into the memory of the past,
Then we will say – it was a mirage.
As sometimes in the weary desert
I see beautiful images of wonderful countries,
But these are ghosts, and the sky is blue again,
And the tired caravan plods away.
Let all be ghostly, misty for me,
As the mysterious deception of these wonderful eyes.
We met strangely and suddenly you will go away,
And, like a fate, plods the weary caravan.
1920–1923
translated XII.2016