This night on track, that’s single and narrow,
Passed by two shadows, void of mirth —
The two who’re predestined forever
To be the poles of the earth —
And separated in the morning,
And every one of them preserved,
Another heart’s and mind’s belonging —
For ages different sense and thought.
And by a chance in shadows mingled
With native leaves the alien ones
In secret copy a beam, single —
To gain the features they had once.
Сегодня в ночь одной тропою
Тенями грустными прошли
Определенные судьбою
Для разных полюсов земли.
И разошлись в часы рассвета,
И каждый молча сохранял
Другому чуждого завета
Отвека розный идеал...
В тенях сплетенные случайно
С листами чуждые листы —
Все за лучом стремятся тайно
Принять привычные черты.
«Only one thing torments my delirium: / how certain sharp lines go on for ever, / and a bell rings and rings and rings / like a clock marking off eternity. Just so, after death, / eyes stare into darkness / (the agonized hope of resurrection) / trying to see familiar visions. But there ...»
«In my delirium, only the endlessness / Of some sharp lines plagues me, / And the bell incessantly tolls / As a clock, striking eternity. It seems to me, that after death it’s how, / With an agonising hope of resurrection, / The eyes get fixed on the surrounding murk, / Seeking the old...»
«Birth of the word is by agony molded, / Through earthly life it is quietly going, / It is a stranger, which drinks from the golden / Pitcher the drops of the savages’ mourning. Go to Nature! The Nature is hostile, / All here is frightening, all is in fullness, / There are the trumpets...»
«In the days when the God eternal / Was declining face to the new world, / By the Word they stopped the sun’s inferno, / And destroyed the towns by the Word. And an eagle was falling at the ground, / Stars were backing to the moon in fright, / If, as made from orange flames a cloud, / ...»