Que tes mains soient bénies, car elles sont impures.
Remy de Gourmont.
The shining of your golden eyes I bless!
That broke my dark delirium with light.
The smile that wavers on your lips I bless!
It kindled me like wine, it rent my night.
The poison in your kisses hid, I bless!
All thoughts, all dreams are poisoned by your kiss.
The scythe that sings in your embrace I bless!
All my past years you have mown down with this.
The fire of your awful love I bless!
I wrapped its flame about me joyfully.
The darkness of your spirit, lo, I bless!
For that its wings were outstretched over me.
Blessed all you gave, blessed what your soul denies:
I bless you for the grief, the dread, the pain;
That after you I strove toward Paradise;
That here without its gates, I stand in vain.
Que tes mains soient bénies,
Car elles sont impures!
Remy de Gourmont
Сиянье глаз твоих благословляю!
В моем бреду светило мне оно.
Улыбку уст твоих благословляю!
Она меня пьянила, как вино.
Твоих лобзаний яд благословляю!
Он отравил все думы и мечты.
Твоих объятий серп благословляю!
Все прошлое во мне им сжала ты.
Огонь любви твоей благословляю!
Я радостно упал в его костер.
Весь мрак души твоей благословляю!
Он надо мной свое крыло простер.
За всё, за всё тебя благословляю!
За скорбь, за боль, за ужас долгих дней,
За то, что влекся за тобою к Раю,
За то, что стыну у его дверей!
«There is a freedom blissful in a twilight / From the marked ciphers of a century, of year, day. / When? - that's not important. Here's the entrance, rather, / Into the depth of park, into the fires' flash. Not in a moisture, satiating flower, / Nor in the trees, full with a feel of love, / ...»
«"Christ has risen" — they chant in the temple, / But I feel sad... my soul is silent; / The world is full of blood and tears, / And this hymn in front of the altars / Sounds so insulting. If He were among us and could see, / What our glorious age has achieved, / How brothers have lear...»
«We are so bound up in discord / The centuries cannot disentangle us — / I’m a warlock, you’re a wolf. We’re close / In the continuous dictionary of earth. Shoulder to shoulder, like the blind, / And led along by destiny, / In the undying dictionary of this country / We’re both...»
«A German machinegunner will shoot me in the road, or / An incendiary bomb will break my legs, or An SS-kid will give me a bullet in the gut. / In any case, on this front, they’ve got me covered. Without my name, or glory, or even boots, / With frozen eyes I’ll gaze at the snow, blood-col...»