Russian Concertina

The melodies of soul in midnight haziness,
Amid the foam of days, a stirring cue,
Are rising like the web-like shadows’ craziness,
On freezing glass sketching a sonnet new…
What did the soul sing early in the morning?
What kind of torment is it filled with now?
The Russian concertina comes with warning,
With eternal question "who's to blame and how,
That in the mazes of a night so dreary
We failed to find the words of highest weight,
To grant salvation to the souls so weary,
To turn our love from feelings into fate?"
But we are not allowed, it seems, to cherish,
Accept, forgive, or fully understand,
The only thing is not to madly perish,
Nor feed the fearsome emotions' endless band…
And just to live, in endless wanderings staying,
Where inner world is mournful, poor and bare,
And mercy of the Lord – for what we're praying,
Whatever final step we take or dare…