I walk and think of various things,
For myself weave a funeral wreath,
And in this hideous world I am
A stylishly solitary man.
But suddenly I hear: war, ideas,
The last trump, the twentieth century...
And growing cold, I then recall —
I am a human being no more.
Spasmic jerking or an idiot,
Useless freak of nature —
"Up with...", yells the patriot,
"Down with...", comes the rebel's roar.
Иду — и думаю о разном.
Плету на гроб себе венок,
И в этом мире безобразном
Благообразно одинок.
Но слышу вдруг: война, идея,
Последний бой, двадцатый век.
И вспоминаю, холодея,
Что я уже не человек,
А судорога идиота,
Природой созданная зря, —
«Ур-ра!» из пасти патриота,
«Долой!» из глотки бунтаря.
«The hour of the soul 3 There’s an hour of the Soul, like the hour of the Moon, / Of an owl — the hour, of mist — the hour, of darkness — / The hour... Hour of the Soul — like the hour of the harp-string / Of David through the dreams Of Saul... At that hour, tremble, / Vanity, an...»
«Maternally — in a dream — with my ear. / As for you, I am inclined to rumor, / As is my soul — to your suffering: a fever? yes? / As for you, I am inclined to your face, Measuring the up — per reaches of your forehead. / As for you, I am inclined to your blood, / To your heart, ...»
«Out of the leprosarium of falsity and malice / I have roused you and taken you Into reveille! Out of the dead sleep of headstones — / Into my hands, here into these palms, both of them, Shell-like — now grow, be calm: / Grow like a pearl in these palms! O, neither sheikh nor shah may b...»
«Fierce valley, / Valley of love. / Hands: white with salt. / Mouth: black with blood. A left-breasted Amazon’s / Shaft just missed my temple. / Yes — my head on a stone — / Life, who could love you? To hell with my plans! To hell with my lies! / Here: as a lark, there: as...»