Tuxedoed, attired immaculately, the high-society gentlemen
Stupefying their faces, brought themselves into a room,
I gave a forced smile, sarcastically ash and darkness remembering:
A new poetic motif unexpectedly breaking the gloom.
Every line — a slap on the cheek. My voice — torture, atrocity.
Rhymes come together happily. Tongue shows the assonance.
I despise you fiercely, O all you dim luminosities,
And, while despising, I count on global resonance!
With light youre fogged over evilly, O the luminous audience!
Hidden from you, undeserving ones, is futures horizon youve sought.
In Severyanins time, O all you dim luminosities,
It should be known that since Pushkin came both Blok and Balmont!
В смокингах, в шик опроборенные, великосветские олухи
В княжьей гостиной наструнились, лица свои оглупив;
Я улыбнулся натянуто, вспомнив сарказмно о порохе.
Скуку взорвал неожиданно нео-поэзный мотив.
Каждая строчка — пощечина. Голос мой — сплошь издевательство.
Рифмы слагаются в кукиши. Кажет язык ассонанс.
Я презираю вас пламенно, тусклые Ваши Сиятельства,
И, презирая, рассчитываю на мировой резонанс!
Блесткая аудитория, блеском ты зло отуманена!
Скрыт от тебя, недостойная, будущего горизонт!
Тусклые Ваши Сиятельства! Во времена Северянина
Следует знать, что за Пушкиным были и Блок, и Бальмонт!
«Allow my soul’s burnt out redeeming, / The chance to glory in life’s course / And by my solitary dreaming / To joy in your undying force. You are divine, beyond comparing, / Your merriment and sorrow are / My sacred shrine, my heart’s declaring / My prophet’s calling from afar. ...»
«Never can I forget (but perhaps I’m mistaken): / How in sunset’s declining fire’s blaze / Bled the sky in its crimson demise as did waken / Night in yellowing lantern-lit glaze. By the window I sat in the crowded rotunda. / Somewhere fiddles scraped loving’s refrain. / And an ebon...»
«But pointlessly the light shines dimly — / The chemist’s, streetlight, street, and night. / For quarter-century hold on grimly — / It will not change. You can’t take flight. You’ll die — again find all beginning, / And as before it all will go. / The night, canal’s ice-dazz...»
«I am a sailor, looking for new isles, / A daring rover in the waters' richness. / I'm thirsty for new flowers and sites, / Unknown highlands and unknown speeches. And women go to the passion's call, / Like faithful prayers go at the temples, / The coarse mantles of the souls fall, / The...»