The Wanderer By Andrei Platonov

In the world are distant roads,

A field and a quiet mother,

Profound dark nights--

Together we wait for no one.

You will open to a wanderer at midnight,

A friend forgotten will come in.

You won’t hide your secret soul,

The wanderer will see and understand.

The sky is high and quiet,

Stars are radiant with centuries.

In the field is neither a wind, nor a cry,

Nor a lonely white willow.

We will go out with the last star

To search for our grandfather’s truth . . .

The centuries will depart in sequence.

And it’s not for us to understand even the grass.

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN

BY ALBERT C. TODD

From “Twentieth Century Russian Poetry: Silver and Steel: An Anthology,” selected by Yevgeny Yevtushenko, edited by Albert C. Todd and Max Hayward (Anchor Books:

1078 pp., out of print)