The Moon above like balalaika,
ugh! To pull it down with a ribbon
right to the soul —

it would be a song divine
of lovers in love, entwined,

There might be a river far
scent of a lily, shadow from a hand,
a madness;

a bench by some wall, a wall by some grass
and some road that leads just
to the darkness.


[© English translation 2010-2020, Mikołaj Gałczyński]