Breaking thro’ the waving fogs

Forth the moon is coming

And on the gloomy acres

She gloomy light is shedding.

Along the wintry cheerless road

Flies the rapid troika

The little bell monotonous

Wearily is tinkling.

A certain homefulness is heard

In the driver’s lengthy lays:

Now light-hearted carelessness

Now low-spirited sadness.

Neither light nor a dark hut …

Only snow and silence …

Striped mileposts are alone

The travellers who meet us.

Sad I feel and weary … On the morrow Nina

To my beloved I returning

Forget myself shall by the fire

And scarce eno’ at her shall gaze.

Loudly of my watch the spring

Its measured circle is completing

And us the parter of the wearied

Midnight not shall separate.

Sad I’m Nina; my journey’s weary;

Slumbering now my driver is quiet

The little bell is monotonous

And darkened now is the moon’s face.