Down in the chasm all my fears For good I drop. Limbs shake no more, the vision clears - Now to the top! I move uphill without a stop, I waste no time... And in the world there’s no top That you can’t climb. Of all the new, unbeaten routes One route is mine! To far-off lines I’ll start my boots To gain one line! The names of those, fallen here, Are kept by snows... Through an unknown distant sphere My road goes! The icy glow filled the cracks And covered steeps... And secrets of somebody’s tracks The granite keeps. Above the heads, above the herds My goal is seen... And I believe that snows and words Are always clean. A lot of years will have passed But I’ll recall, How there I killed the doubts at last Inside my soul. The water wished me in a chat: “Good luck, be blessed!” And what a day... What day was that? Ah... Wednesday... yes...
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2001
Edited by Robert Titterton