Nothing, nothing will be returned;
love, forgiveness – unearned, unlearned;
though we can never learn to forget.
Sweet is the sleep of an alien land.
We sense spring, hear the sea’s even sound
in this world of eternal torment.
by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)
(1949)
translated by Robert Chandler
