Nikolay Gumilev
The Sun of the Spirit

How could we walk in peace, before,
expecting no joy, no disaster,
not dreaming of battles, of flaming retreats,
or the roaring trumpet of victory ?

How could we — but it’s not too late,
the sun of the spirit bends down to us —
soothing, threatening, it pours
across our skies.

And our spirit flowers like a May rose,
tearing darkness apart like fire;
knowing nothing, blind, the body
obeys.

Out on the wild, beautiful plains,
in the quiet holiness of the deep forest,
the soul knows no torment
nor the will any difficulty.

It will be autumn, soon: I feel it.
The sun’s work will be done
and people will pick golden fruit
from the tree of the spirit.

Translated by Alla Burago and Burton Raffel

(Nikolay Gumilev`s site)