The dull sounds of gas flares
Above the dead brightness of heads,
The tedium’s black contagion
From deserted tables,
And there, among the sallow-faced,
Harbouring the anguish of the habit,
Trying to solve on the discoloured pages
The odious puzzle of being.
Тупые звуки вспышек газа
Над мёртвой яркостью голов,
И скуки чёрная зараза
От покидаемых столов,
И там, среди зеленолицых,
Тоску привычки затая,
Решать на выцветших страницах
Постылый ребус бытия.
«I yearn to live in wild extremes, / Perpetuating things and places / And incarnating all that's faceless — / To carry out all broken dreams. And while life’s nightmare chokes, persisting, / And in my sleep I suffocate, / Perhaps the future, near or distant / Will bring a glad lad, w...»
«May be, in my previous a-being, / I’ve cut the throats of my Mom and Dad, / If in this one — Lord of all the living! — / I have been doomed to suffering like that. If I call for dogs of mine, aloud, / Or just try my own horse to see, / Not obeying all my signs and shouts, / The...»
«In my night-time fever / I see you, O / Winged Victory of Samothrace, / reaching out your arms. First night-silence runs / from you, then your blind / inexorable driving flight / brings giddiness, whirling sick. Your crazy-bright eyes / laugh, and blaze, / and our shadows run behin...»
«At my window pane / A somber birch tree / Is newly adorned / By the frost’s whimsy. It’s like bunches of grapes / That hang from branch tips — / And the mournful shapes / Are a joy to contemplate. I watch the daylight spread / To play along the branches; / But when birds alig...»