"Christ has risen" — they chant in the temple,
But I feel sad... my soul is silent;
The world is full of blood and tears,
And this hymn in front of the altars
Sounds so insulting.
If He were among us and could see,
What our glorious age has achieved,
How brothers have learned to hate each other,
How humans are disgraced,
And if here, in this luxurious temple,
He heard, "Christ is risen",
How bitter would be the tears He would shed
In front of the crowd!
Oh brethren, let it come to pass
That in this world there would not be any masters or slaves,
The groans and curses would fall silent,
And so would the clatter of swords, and the ringing of shackles, —
Oh, then, and only then, as a hymn of freedom,
Let it thunder: "Christ has risen!"
And all the peoples will answer us:
"Christ has risen indeed!"
«Христос воскрес», — поют во храме;
Но грустно мне... душа молчит:
Мир полон кровью и слезами,
И этот гимн пред алтарями
Так оскорбительно звучит.
Когда б Он был меж нас и видел,
Чего достиг наш славный век,
Как брата брат возненавидел,
Как опозорен человек,
И если б здесь, в блестящем храме
«Христос воскрес» Он услыхал,
Какими б горькими слезами
Перед толпой Он зарыдал!
Пусть на земле не будет, братья,
Ни властелинов, ни рабов,
Умолкнут стоны и проклятья,
И стук мечей, и звон оков, —
О лишь тогда, как гимн свободы,
Пусть загремит: «Христос воскрес!»
И нам ответят все народы:
«Христос воистину воскрес!»
«A honeyed shade has covered / The Alexandrian halls / Pushkin / She has kissed Anthony's dead lips already, / Already knelt and wept at Cæsar's feet. / Servants betrayed her. In the sprawling darkness / Rome's Eagle screams and trumpets her defeat. In comes the last man captive to her...»
«You'll surely come. So why wait anymore? / I'm waiting for you. I am through. / My light is out. My doors are open for / The simple wonder that is you. / So take whatever guise might strike your fancy: / Blast chemical weapons through my room, / Come quiet as the nightstick of a gangster...»
«But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt. / Genesis 19:26 The righteous man then trailed Jehovah's guide, / Hulking and bright, across a ridge of black, / But in his wife a keening anguish cried: / “It's not too late for you. You can look back upon your S...»
«There are three periods of memory. / The first of them is like a yesterday, / The soul basks in the blessings of their vault, / The body takes its glory in their shade. / Laughter has not yet passed away, tears gush, / The blot is not yet bleached out of the desk, / The kiss, like a hear...»