Fears - translation of the original poem by Yevgeny Evtushenko

In movement no. 4 (largo) of Shostakovich's Thirteenth Symphony, the chorus sings Yevgeny Yevtushenko's poem Fears. It is a powerful poem that looses a lot in translation.  Nonetheless, I took the liberty of making my own translation attempt:

Fears are vanishing now in Russia 
As the prodigal year's ghosts they thread
Here and there, at church steps remaining
Like old ladies begging for bread. 

I remember them in their power  
at the court of triumphant lies horde
Fears as shadows crept in to devour
Penetrating through every floorboard

Softly taming the citizens about
Fears set seal  upon everything: 
When silence was proper, they urged one to shout,

While keep quiet when needing to scream 

Nowadays, all of it has turned distant  
It is strange to remember before
Secret fear of one blowing the whistle 
Secret dread of a knock at the door. 

What of fear to speak with a foreigner?  
A foreigner’s one thing, but what about wife 
And what of unfounded fear after loud marches

When alone with the silence [that cuts like a knife]

We weren’t scared of building in the snowstorm 
Or of going into battle beneath falling shells

But at times we were mortally frightened 
Of just talking alone to ourselves. 

We were not knocked down or corrupted,

With good reason now Russia instills

Even greater fears in its rivals

Than the fears it once had to defeat

Now, enlightened, I reckon new fears:

Fear of being with nation uncouth

Fear of falsehood debasing ideas

That embody our very truth

Fear of praising oneself to madness
Fear of alien words repeated to crutch

Frightful doubt of disparaging others 
While trusting oneself way too much

Fears are vanishing now in Russia

As I write this, I’m hasty at slight

And I am writing with only one fear: 
Of not writing with all of my might. 



Yevtushenko and Nixon