Valery Bryusov
Saint Sebastian

On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consuméd,
                    ⁠Oh, thou, my soul.
On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consuméd,
                    ⁠With hidden dole.

Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,
                    ⁠Harassed and spent,
Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,
                    ⁠Thy flesh all rent.

Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter
                    ⁠And bended bow,
Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter
                    ⁠Thy torments slow.

The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow's stinging,
                    ⁠'Neath the evening sky,
The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow's stinging,
                    ⁠When the end draws nigh.

Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips, now pallid
                    ⁠With deadly drouth?
Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips, now pallid
                    ⁠To kiss thy mouth?

Translated by Avrahm Yarmolinsky