With a passion I detest the saintly —
Their scrupulous and tortured concerns
And shallow thoughts are for themselves;
Themselves alone exclusively they save.
They fear exclusively for their souls,
In terror of their dreams' gaping abyss
And of that ancient poisoner the Worm
They execute without guilty conscience.
I would have hated heaven just as well,
Among those shades with meekly smiles,
Where the eternal holiday, forever May,
Proceeds on its measured, pacing way.
I have no wish to live in Paradise
While executing the Serpent's wiles.
From childhood years I've loved the Asp
And am amazed by it as by a masterpiece.
I have no wish to live in Paradise
Among dullards writhing in ecstasy.
I'm dying, I'm destroyed, am killed — I sing,
The mind-deprived demon of dreams lyrical.
Я ненавижу всех святых,
Они заботятся мучительно
О жалких помыслах своих,
Себя спасают исключительно.
За душу страшно им свою,
Им страшны пропасти мечтания,
И ядовитую Змею
Они казнят без сострадания.
Мне ненавистен был бы Рай
Среди теней с улыбкой кроткою,
Где вечный праздник, вечный май
Идёт размеренной походкою.
Я не хотел бы жить в Раю,
Казня находчивость змеиную,
От детских дней люблю Змею,
И ей любуюсь, как картиною.
Я не хотел бы жить в Раю,
Меж тупоумцев экстатических,
Я гибну, гибну, — и пою,
Безумный демон снов лирических.
«You should be all-understanding, / flexible, unsteady, changing, / as a running ocean wave, / unfastidious and suave , — / Welcome all that come to pass, / Leaning, touching, encompass / whether you accept or not. Be impassive, apathetic, / all-departing, anaesthetic / As a runni...»
«It’s not in wise man’s recollections, / Not in a poet’s sweet refrain, / Not in a hero’s daring action, / Not in a hermit’s silent strain. But contrary to grievance tending / To cover all divine with slime, / Behold: it’s in the sun ascending / On golden canvases of sky. Ea...»
«Love neighbors as thyself, they say... / But me myself despise. / While yearning for ethereal, / I see my truths and lies. And if I ever loved someone, / I only had in mind / To find the innocence of heart, / A ray of truth divine. But after sobering from dreams, / In foreign souls...»
«Exists in the autumnal growing / A brief, but an enchanting phase: / The day – as if in crystal glowing, / The dusk – in the resplendent glaze. Where ears fell to zesty sickle’s rending, / It’s bare around; through a widespread range / Glows only, thinning and unbending, / A web...»