I was walking down an unfamiliar street, and suddenly I heard the cawing of crows, and the sounds of a lute, and distant thunder; before me flew a tram
How I leapt onto its footboard
Was a riddle to me.
It left a fiery trail in the air,
Even in the light of day.
Literal translation
It raced like a dark, winged storm,
It had lost its way in the abyss of time…
Stop it, tram driver,
Stop the carriage at once.
Literal translation
Too late. We have already rounded the wall,
We have dashed through a grove of palms,
Across the Neva, across the Nile and the Seine
We have thundered over three bridges.
Literal translation
And, flashing past the window frame,
A beggar-old man cast after us
An inquisitive glance, the very same one,
Of course, who died in Beirut a year ago.
Literal translation
Where am I? So languidly and so anxiously
My heart beats in reply:
Do you see the station where one can
Buy a ticket to the India of the Spirit?
Literal translation
A signboard… letters filled with blood
Proclaim: greengrocer's. I know that here,
Instead of cabbage and instead of swede,
They sell dead heads...
Literal translation
Nikolai Gumilev, The Lost Tram
