The fifth act of the drama
Blows in the wind of autumn,
Each flower-bed in the park seems
A fresh grave, we have finished
The funeral-feast, and there’s nothing
To do. Why then do I linger
As if I am expecting
A miracle? It’s the way a feeble
Hand can hold fast to a heavy
Boat for a long time by the pier
As one is saying goodbye
To the person who’s left standing.
Пятым действием драмы
Веет воздух осенний,
Каждая клумба в парке
Кажется свежей могилой.
Справлена чистая тризна,
И больше нечего делать,
Что же я медлю, словно
Скоро свершится чудо?
Так тяжелую лодку долго
У пристани слабой рукою
Удерживать можно, прощаясь
С тем, кто остался на суше.
«Que tes mains soient bénies, car elles sont impures. / Remy de Gourmont. The shining of your golden eyes I bless! / That broke my dark delirium with light. The smile that wavers on your lips I bless! / It kindled me like wine, it rent my night. The poison in your kisses hid, I bless! / A...»
«If you kept faith, or not, does it avail? / If I was faithful or unfaithful to you? / Our eyes that would look elsewhere flinch and fail, / Yet not my will has power to undo you. / Once more I tremble, so once more you pale, / As the forebodings of old pain break through you. / The momen...»
«Kindling the air, fierce birds with feathers of fire, / Through the white portals of Paradise flamed like desire. / Virgin vistas reared, lit with quivering red, / And beyond seas were the trackless wanderers fled. But on the pillars of marble, on the threshold were thrown / Crimson shadows...»
«The posters shout, their gorgeous motley blares, / The signboards' groaning fills the street, / And from the shops a shrill light sharply flares, / As cries of triumph mock defeat. / Behind the glimmering panes soft fabrics sleep, / And diamonds pour their poison daze, / Above massed coi...»