Evil Spirits

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night
I drive across the naked country,
The bells go ding! and ding, again!
Lonely and lost, I gaze in terror
Upon the unfamiliar plain.

"Drive faster, fellow!" "There's no help, sir,
The horses find the going rough;
The blizzard pastes my eyes together;
The roads are buried, sure enough.
There's not a track for me to follow;
We've lost our way. What shall we do?
The devil's leading us in circles
And right across the meadows, too.

"There, there he is! He's playing with us;
He spat at me, you might have seen;
He's here, befuddling the poor horses,
Hell push them into the
ravine; Now he pretends that he's a milepost
Where there was never such a mark;
He flashed by like a spark and vanished,
Vanished into the empty dark."

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night.
We have no strength to go on circling;
The bell is silent suddenly;
The horses halt. . . . What is that yonder?
Who knows? A stump? A wolf, maybe?

The storm is vicious now, it's howling;
The nervous horses snort, oh hark!
It's he who dances in the distance,
Alone his eyes burn in the dark;
Once more the horses hurry onward,
The bells go ding! and ding, again!
Those throngs I see are evil spirits
Gathered upon the whitening plain.

Innumerable, various, horrid,
Demoniac creatures are in flight,
Whirled round like leaves in deep November
Under the wild moon's troubled light . . .
What numbers! Whither are they driven?
Their chant has such a plaintive pitch:
Is it a house sprite they are burying
Or do they marry of a witch?

The clouds are scurrying and spinning;
The moon, in hiding, casts her light
Upon the flying snow; the heavens
Are troubled, troubled is the night.
A dizzy host of swarming devils
Goes rushing through the topless sky;
It tears the heart of me to hear them,
Their desolate, long, lamenting cry.

Translated by Babette Deutsch

A.S. Pushkin. Evil Spirits (“The clouds are scurrying and spinning...”). Translated by Babette Deutsch // Alexander Pushkin. Collected Works: Parallel Russian Text and English Translation.
© Электронная публикация — РВБ, 2022—2024. Версия 2.1 от 30 ноября 2023 г.