Alexander Blok
To Muse

There is fatal news of perdition
In your innermost songs through and through.
There's a curse of holy volition
And affront of happiness, too.

Their power, so captivating,
Makes me say what everyone says:
Fair angels you've been abating
Fascinate them with your grace.

When you laugh at belief, my dear,
There suddenly shines over you
The insipid amaranth sphere
Which, at one time, came in my view.

Good or bad, you're here for a wander.
People say, and it's just as well:
Some believe you are Muse and wonder
While for me you are torment and hell.

I don"t know how it all came about,
I was feeble and impotent, too,
I saw you, and I didn't burn out
But I sought consolation in you...

Well, I wanted discord and contention,
And I wander: how you did you come
To present me with constellation,
Meadow, flowers, and curse of your charm?

Your caresses, so frenzied and tipsy,
Were wilder than night and rain,
much more fleeting than love of a gypsy
And much headier than golden champagne.

There was fatal delight and pleasure
In the trampling of what is saint,
Bitter passion, like herb, as a measure
Of delight and the heart's content!

Translated by Alec Vagapov