Helix stairs. Put away the fear.
Light of mind... the boundless unlocks.
Shadows of saints are shining here,
Flap of feathers, screeches of white flocks.
Far below, in temples, the undying
Litany; the earthly sighs' repeat.
I am treading an arête of diamond,
Spires of cathedrals sting my feet.
Under, grapes of luminaries blazing,
Dust of globes and stars' unreeling gloss.
You are the eternal spirit's brazen
Nails of execution on the cross.
Rip apart, the curtain of the temple,
Firmament of azure, free my breath!
Here are the chains for you to trample —
Wave the torch of life, fiery Death!
Вьются ввысь прозрачные ступени,
Дух горит… и дали без границ.
Здесь святых сияющие тени,
Шелест крыл и крики белых птиц.
А внизу, глубоко — в древнем храме
Вздох земли подъемлет лития.
Я иду алмазными путями,
Жгут ступни соборов острия.
Под ногой сияющие грозди —
Пыль миров и пламя белых звезд.
Вы, миры, — вы огненные гвозди,
Вечный дух распявшие на крест.
Разорвись, завеса в тёмном храме,
Разомкнись, лазоревая твердь!
Вот она, как ангел, над мирами,
Факел жизни — огненная Смерть!
«If they say: “you must suffer both torture and burning” — / I shall joyously sing on the stake that will finish my life — / Obedient. If I had to abandon my singing forever, / I would silently offer my tongue and my hands to the knife — / ...»
«A girl was singing in the choir with fervor / Of all who have known exile and distress, / Of all the vessels that have left the harbor, / Of all who have forgotten happiness. Her voice soared up to the dome. Glistening, / A sunbeam brushed her shoulder in its flight, / And from the darkne...»
«What were those strolling fops and dandies / Making of the seashore? / They set up tables, smoke, chew, / Sip soft drinks. Then wander about the beach / Moodily laughing and infecting / The salty air with their gossip. Then, / Their drivers take them out in kibitkas2 / Covered coquetti...»
«These evenings over the restaurants / The air is hot and strangely cloying, / And shouts drift from the drunkards’ haunts / On the putrid breath of spring. Far off, over dusty side streets can be seen — / Over snug villas mile on mile — / The golden flint of a baker’s sign, / An...»