Led by what is shining,
the sleepwalker looks into a blank,
black is the death beneath him
and there’s no knowing
where the moon’s thin ledge
will slide him.
The innocent are executed
in a universal night –
look the other way.
Look into cold nothing
and let its moonshine take you
beyond all understanding.
by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)
(1948)
translated by Robert Chandler
Rambling At The Bridge Head 