The wooden organ did not roar this evening

The wooden organ did not roar this evening. 
The cradle song of Schubert to us sang 
The windmill blew and in the hurricane's singing 
Laughing blue-eyed intoxication rang.  

The world of ancient song is green and brown, 
The world of ancient song, young for all age, 
Where nightingale elms' towering crowns 
The forest rocks with fierce and beastly rage.  

And night's return, so terrible and mighty, 
That song is wild and deep just like black wine - 
This poltergeist is but a visage empty 
That, thoughtless, knocks upon the windowpane.

By Osip Mandelshtam
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat