The Heiress

It seemed my song was sung already
among these emptied halls.
O, who could have told me then
that I’d inherit all of this:
Felitsa, swans and bridges
and all the Chinese ornaments,
the Palace with its loggias
and divinely beautiful lindens.
And even my own shade,
all distorted with fright,
and the penitential shirt,
and the sepulchral lilacs.


Translation © Margo Shohl Rosen