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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Konstantin Balmont

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

With the Wind

Konstantin Balmont

Translated from the Russian by Edith Chapman Tracy

MY soul is borne out on the wind.

Through the opaqueness of her earthly case she glitters like a sword.

She is free; she rides her body as the whirlwind the storm.

She is free from the death of the flesh.

Her passage is brief as the lightning,

As the flash of the outgoing sea-gull,

Or the slipping frigate!

She is the juggler who raises the dead,

With whom the spirits speak.

The soul is beautiful! Proud in her beauty she laughs at life

And drinks deep of the day.

And she casts herself on the wing of the wind,

Breasting the uppermost height.