Translation of “Есть времена, есть дни, когда” by Aleksandr Blok
In every life there comes a time
when cold hard ice locks up the heart,
which neither gentle voices’ chime
nor honest toil can break apart.
As sparrows startled from their nest
bolt wildly toward the blood-red dawn,
you writhe in feverish protest—
but still your heart aches on and on.
Half groaning thunder, half sharp lightning,
you’re deaf and dumb to all the world.
Familiarity grows frightening;
what once was dear becomes disturbed.
Rejoicing in the stifling gloom,
choking on nothing, out of breath,
the soul that once like Eden bloomed
is now as dutiful as death!