Maximilian Voloshin
Dethroned, to my substance-bound trap...

Dethroned, to my substance-bound trap
I nose-dived, a higher will's transgressor.
A beam of joy decays to pain no lesser
Refracted by the nature's carnal sap.

All winds a-nest a rose in my lap.
But every tone suffers its suppressor
In every beat — so should I still confess for
The temper colors wrap me step by step?

Crime makes me pure. Death inspires. Prison
Delivers me. Prostration gives me might.
I lost my wings — not depth to take my ease on.

Come on, tormentor! Bloody eagle, bite!
All voices in my syrinx meet arisen
Like rainbow ties the gamut crucified.

Translated by Alexey Romanovsky