Let your Mind’s fire break through the roaring,
Just concentrate, forget the past
And try to grasp that a new era
Has come; you’re now the least, the last.
And all you knew, all you discovered
In your books’ jungles, your dream’s shout
Lies as a trace that’s hardly noticed
And asks sadly to be crossed out!
So few things will be thought worth using
And many, many will sleep deep!
You’ll have to split yourself in two parts,
And kill the self you cannot keep.
And you will tell the half remaining:
Enter your new world, child; it’s yours!
But this sun’s brilliance is so painful
For eyes which have gone blind indoors.
Прорвись огнем ума сквозь грохот,
Сосредоточься и пойми:
Настала новая эпоха,
Ты стал последним меж людьми.
И все, что знал ты, что проведал
Сквозь шум мечты и дебри книг,
Лежит едва заметным следом
И жалко просит: зачеркни!
Немногое лишь пригодится,
И многое уснет в глуби.
И сам ты должен раздвоиться
И одного себя убить.
Другому же себе ребенком
Велишь ты в новый мир войти...
Как больно в этом мире звонком
Глазам, ослепшим взаперти!
«The street collapsed, as a syphilitic’s nose. / The river — drivelling voluptuousness. / Casting off their garments until the last leaf, / the gardens lay obscenely spread in June. I went to the square, / put on a burnt quarter / on my head, as a red-headed wig. / The people are afr...»
«This evening was to decide — / should we become lovers? — / it’s dark, / no one to see us. / I bent forward truly, / and truly / I, / bending forward, / said to her, / as a kind parent: / “The precipice of desire is steep — / be so kind, / step away. / Step away, ...»
«We went out of the stuffy room / Outside, the air languorous and sweet; / The lilac siblings of an indifferent family / Were staring from the balcony. The piping of sea reeds / And rubies, tossed about the splashes… / We strolled aimlessly for a long while / In between rocks on the lo...»
«Houses, bewitched by the morning; / The lack of people puts a spell on me, / And freshness lulls me. / In the sky — the wings of a frosty day. Lonely people pass by, / But all is quiet, as if they are not there, / No one, as if there is no one... / In the heights — a pale rose-color...»