Do not trust the disciples. They will betray the cause
They will break it apart, will take it, will make off with it
They will dishonour the spirit, they will bury the body
They will not suffer the bones to mourder at rest in the clay.
Do not trust the disciples. Put them from you in peace.
Cast their staves out behind them, and relinquish your calling.
Then, King Jesus, revolt! Send the evangelists packing!
And to Golgotha wend your steep and solitary way.
Не верь ученикам!
Они испортят дело!
Разнимут, раскрадут,
растащат по частям.
И опозорят дух,
и похоронят тело,
И не дадут в земле
спокойно тлеть костям.
Не верь ученикам!
За дверь их мирно выставь!
Им посох вслед швырни!
Сложи с себя свой сан!
Бунтуйся же, Христос!
Гони евангелистов,
И на Голгофу
поднимайся сам!
«Among their leaves long ago the tulips / Were filled with pink lassitude, but / The sound of a piano is passionately / Departing to the gloomy summit. And torment is there or triumph. / Revelation or enigma, but He is / No one’s, and you are his, and the / Consciousness of this is swe...»
«There are words whose breath is like a flower: / So tender and whitely disquieting; but / Among them there is nothing sadder or / Tenderer than you, impossible. Without knowing you, I had already loved / In you those sounds sunk into velvet: / The shining of graves appeared to me and. / ...»
«To A. N. Annenskaya Evening. The green nursery with / Its low ceiling, the boring / German book, Nurse in / Spectacles, with her stocking. It is as though I could see the / Novel-yellow, in a cheap / Edition... I might even read the / Title if it were not for this fog. You were still ...»
«Links not unchained, / Unsubdued shadow — / And oblivion, but oblivion / Like a soft autumn day. Like noon’s sun in a temple / Through the colored pattern of / The glass, with a wave covered / With leaves, but burning... To us-reproaches; to us — / Weariness; but oblivion will ...»