Valery Bryusov
Stanzas on book catalogues

Ye lists and catalogues still haunt my brain;
Before me I behold you, face on face,
Near me afresh on this unpeopled plain.

Your secrets long ago I held in chase!
By lamp-light o'er the catalogue I bent,
To probe for books that scarce had left a trace;

To track down names; by syllables I went,
Sipping at words of foreign tongues with care,
Surmising much from briefest document.

Poets and epochs I upraised in air
On scanty cue, as oft, to wit, would be:
"No author's name" or "Bound in calf" or "Rare."

And now, meseems, a skeleton are ye
Of all that lived in ages long ago,
That beckons with a scornful nod to me.

And says: "I, having somewhat yet to grow,
Of still more bones and joints must be possessed,
I crave for books, that words may overflow.

"Ponder and dream, and be renown your quest!
'Tis on e to me, or imbecile or sage,
Produce of wisdom or a merry jest.

"For all things their established term I gauge.
Create, and from the dreams whereon you pore,
I'll keep a few scant verses, age on age.

"Naught in omnipotence can stand before
My verdict. I allot the deathless bays
And crown a world of phantasy and lore."

Thus quoth the wraith to me on silent ways,
And as to earth with humble kiss I fall,
While the moon swiftly dies before my gaze,

O transient glory, I accept your call!

Translated by Paul Selver