4.
War, war! — burn incense before the icons!
And the clatter of spurs.
But the Tsar's proclamations do not concern me,
Neither do the poeople's quarrels.
I seem on a fraiyed tightrope
I — a tiny dancer.
I — the shadow of someone's shadow.
I — a sleepwalker
Between two dark moons.
4
Война, война! — Кажденья у киотов
И стрёкот шпор.
Но нету дела мне до царских счётов,
Народных ссор.
На, кажется, — надтреснутом — канате
Я — маленький плясун.
Я тень от чьей-то тени. Я лунатик
Двух тёмных лун.
«Goldfinch, friend, I'll cock my head — / let's check the world out, just me and you: / this winter's day pricks like chaff; / does it sting your eyes too? Boat-tailed, feathers yellow-black, / sopped in colour beneath your beak, / do you get, you goldfinch you, / just how you flaunt i...»
«I can’t submit myself to man. / Who’d choose to be a slave? / We judge each other all life long — / and then? A lonely grave. I can’t submit myself to God, / because I love Him so. / For God has set me on this road — / where else am I to go? I tear the nets that bind mankind ...»
«No, I will never make my peace. / There’s truth in all my curses. / I won’t forgive, won’t throw myself / into the iron embraces. Like everyone, I’ll die, I’ll kill — / ruin myself, like everyone — / but I refuse to stain my soul / by justifying what goes on. When death i...»
«For many days along the river Ocean / With open sail, towards the blurry East / To predetermined land we are in motion, / The singing waves get tired in the mist. The eye of ending day is peeping crimson / And now far away we see the sight / Of sleeping land. And shading to horizon / Th...»