The
skyline is on fire, andà itÒs extremely
clear.
I
wait for you in silence with pangs of love and rue.
à
The
skyline is on fire- yourà vision
is so near,
I
am afraid youÒll change and will not look the same,
à
You
willà arouse suspicion incurringà
wrath, my dear,
By
changing your appearance,à theà
features and theà frame.
à
I
will break down in grief,à frustratedà
and austere,
Unable
to subdueà the mortal dreams again!
à
The
skyline is so lucid.à The lustre
is so near
I
am afraid youÒll change and will not look the same.
à
June
4th 1901, Village of Shakhmatovo
à
***
Life
slowly moved like a mature fortune teller
Mysteriously
whispering forgotten words.
I
sighed, regretting something, loss, or failure,
My
head was filled with dreams of other worlds.
à
As
I approached the fork I stopped to stare
Atà
the serrated forest by the road.
By
force of some volition , even there
The
heaven seemed to be a heavy load.
à
And
I rememberedà the untold andà
hidden reason
For
captured powerà of youth andà
captured hopes,
While
up ahead the fading day ofà season,
Was
gilding the serrated verdure topsÅ
à
Spring,à
tell me, what do I regret? What failure?
What
are the dreams that come into my head?
My
life,à like a mature fortune teller,
Is
whispering the words I didà forget.
à
March
16th , 1902
à
à
***
à
He
that hath the bride is the bridegroom:
but
the friend of the bridegroom,
which
standeth and heareth him,
rejoiceth
greatly Å
John,
III, 29
I
am a boy, I light a candle
And
keep the incense burning on.
Beyond
the river, in a huddle,
SheÒs
laughing in a muffled tone.
à
I
like the evening public prayer,
The
church up by the river side,
The
dusk, the muddy bluish air,
The
village in the eventide.
à
Resigning
to the tender brows,
Admiring
the charm of all
I
throw a bunch of snow-whiteà flowers
Into
the yard, across the wall.
à
And
then the hazy screen will fall and
The
bridegroom will step down the shrine.
And
from the forest border onward
The
wedding day will break and shine.
à
July
7th, 1902
à
à
à
à
ààààààààààààààààààààààààààààààààà
***
à
Turning
red, templeà stairsà
are fading.
Did
you tell me youÒd keepà the date?
At
the entrance to eventideà praying
I
have opened my heart.à I will wait.
à
I
donÒt know my intent and desire.
I
may die of relief and delight.
All
aflame in the evening fire,
I
will bring you to flaring light.
à
Scarletà
flame engulfs the environs
Dreamsà
have come, unexpectedly, true
You
are coming. ThereÒsà infiniteà
highness
Over
me, and the temple, and you.
à
December
25th, 1902
à
à
***
I
recall, we would date at sundown You
would cut the lagoon with the ore. I admired
your white dressing gown Not
revering fine dreams any more.
Our
dates would be awkwardly silent. Up ahead
on the sandy shore Evening
candles would light up, and someone Thought
of beauty, about to show
Close-up,
burning and intimate feeling Quiet
azure wouldnÒt partake. We would
meet in the haze of the evening On the
shore of the rippled lake.
All
hasàvanished : love, torment, yearning, All
has faded forevermoreÅ Slender
waist and the voices of mourning, Our
row and your golden ore.
May
13th,à 1902
***
toà
S. Solovyov
à
Obscure
dailyà shadows run about.
The
sound of the bells is clear and high.
The
stairs of the church are shining out,
Alive,
theyÒreà waitingà
for you to come by.
à
As
you step in youÒll touch a boulder, faintly,
Cladà
in theà gruesomeà
virtue of the past,
Perchance,à
youÒll drop an Aprilà flower
gently
Amidst
the prudent icons, in the dusk..
à
The
rosy shadows run , obscure and scarce,
The
sound of the bells is clear and high,
Dark
mist is falling on the aged stairsÅ
IÒm
waitingà for your footsteps to come
by.
à
January
4th, 1902
à
à
à
ààààààààààààààààà
* * *
à
As
I was growing old and fading,
A
poet, used to streaks of grey,
I
wanted to postpone the ending
The
aged men should face some day.
à
A
sickly man, a puny creature,
IÒm
looking for a lucky star,
And
in my senile dreams I picture
A
lovely image, now so far.
à
Perchance
I have forgotten something,
I
donÒt believe in such a lie.
This
tremor has aroused nothing.
IÒm
neither moved nor touched. Not I!
à
These
old time silly tales and stories
Haveà
fascinated me somehow,
But
IÒve been bowed by age and worries,
ItÒs
funny, I am a poet nowÅ
à
I
donÒt believe in books and omens
Of
silly men of our times!
Damn
all those dreams! Damn all those moments
Of
my prophetic doggÒrel rhymes!
à
So
here I am, alone and lonely
An
angry man, decrepit, sickÅ
I
àstretchà
my hand and with a quandary
Bend
down to pick my walking stickÅ
à
Whom
should I trust? Whom should I doubt?
Those
doctors, poets, priests and allÅ
If
only I could join a crowd
And
learn to be a trivial soul!
à
June
4th, 1903, Bad Nauheim
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
àààààààààààààààààààà
***
à
So
when I retire from the timeline stream
Abandoningà
censure and praise
Rememberà
the kindness, the warm-hearted dream
I
lived on andà bloomed in those days.
à
My
darling, I know YouÒll forget all the spite
There
used to beà onà
my part,
When
You, like a swan,à appeared, snow-white,
Impaling
the depth of my heart.
à
I
wasnÒt the one who hadà wounded Your
pride
It
wasàà someone elseÒsà
design.
Dark
clouds would troubleà my day and
myà light,
Your
day was brighter than mine.
à
And
when I retire from this lifetime string
And
vanish beyond the blue grid,
You
will remember the song we would sing,-
IÒd
singà it, and You would repeat.
à
November
1,à 1903
à
à
à
***
The
girl was singing in a church choir, About
the weary abroad, faraway, About
the ships in the sea, so dire And
those whoÒd forgotten their happy day.
So
sweet was her voice flying up into highness With
shimmering beam on her shoulder of white, And
every one listened watching from darkness The
way the white garment was singing in light.
And
every one thought that the joy was there, That
the ships were all in a quiet bay, And
the weary people abroad, full of care, Were
now all blessed with a happy day.
. The
voice was sweet, and the beam was shining, And
only up there at the royal rack A child,
conversant with secret, was crying That
nobody, really, would ever come back.
August
1905
***
à
A
cheerful bride, sheà was happy and
gay,
But
all of a sudden sheà passed away.
à
Her
mother berried her close nearby
The
churchà came down on the pond,à
half dry.
à
And
over the waves of the deepest place
A
cross is floating at an even pace.
à
Days,
years and agesà have come to pass,
Butà
youth has never called on,à alas.
à
The
house, soà tired of waiting for youth,
Has
only the mother crowned withà ruth.
à
The
woman is working with a needle and thread
The
shades of the yarns on the floor vibrate.
à
ItÒs
quiet and lightà as it was in her
prime.
The
granny hasà no account of time.
à
As
old as the hills and as gray as lead,
It
seems,à she willà
never ever be deadÅ
à
Amidst
the chairs and chests of drawers
The
dancingà ofà
flies is, as ever,à joyous.
à
There
areà bundles of scarletà
thread on the floor,
Lonely
heart, you had better give in and be blessed.
Go
in silence to Vespers, esteemed and desired,
And
pray wherever it suits you best.
à
May
your visitor be as light as an angel;
Just
take him as ifà he were from your
dream;
Keepà
silent soà no one might notice
the stranger
that
sat on a bench and flashed byà like
a gleam.
à
The
meaning of silence will be unknown,
So
will the quiet and simple thought.
Yes.
She will come with the glare ofà dawn
And
kiss on the lips through nobodyÒsà fault.
à
June
1905
à
à
ààààà
***
I
knew her as far back
as
those unbelievable years.
Tutchev
à
With
years you havenÒt changed, my fair:
YouÒre
charming, strict, asà clear as day;
The
only change is in yourà hair,
ItÒsà
sleek and withà a flash of
gray.
à
Well,à
as for me, IÒm sitting here,
A
stooping man , back at my place,
With
an inscrutable idea
IÒm
looking at your quiet face.
à
The
years, they havenÒt changed us, really,
We
liveà the way we didà
before,
Fantastic
years, weà love them dearly
And
will remember evermoreÅ
à
Their
spirit is in azure darkness,
Their
ashes in the urn of dust.
ItÒs
more and moreà relaxed and lustrous
To
breathe remembering the past.
à
May
30th ,à 1906.
The
Unknown Lady
The
heated air in the restaurants
Isà wild and dull as anything,
The drunkenà hails are ruled byà restless
And noxious spirit of the spring.
Far
off, beyond the dusty alley
Over the boringàà country side
There is a bakeshop,à and the valley
Resounds with crying of a child.
And
every night, beyond the barriers,
Parading, cocking their hats,
Amidst the ditches the admirers
Perambulate with dearà hearts.
Above
the lake the creak of ore-lock
And womenÒs screams impale the place,
And in the sky, the moon disk warlock,
Inanely smiling,à makes a face.
And
every night, my friend appears
Asà a reflection in my glass,
Like me, heÒs stunnedà andà set at ease
By magic liquid, drunk en mass.
Theà
footmen, true to their habits,
Relax at tables next to us,
And drunkards, staringà like rabbits,
Exclaim:àIn vino veritas! 1
Andà
every eveningà at thisà hour
(or is it just a dreamyà case?)
A waist in satin,à like a flower,
Moves past the window in the haze.
Without
drunken men to hinder,
Alone, she walks across the room
And settles down by the window
Exhaling fog and sweet perfume.
There
is a kind of old timesàflavour
About her silky clothes and things:
Her hat, in mourning plumes as ever,
Her hand and fingers, all in rings.
I
feel her close (a strange emotion),
And looking through the veil,à I see
Theà vast of an amazing ocean,
The coast of an amazing sea.
I
am informed of inmost secrets,
SomebodyÒs sun is now allà mine,
Myà body, heart and soul, in sequence,
Have all been pierced by the wine.
Theà
ostrich plumes, desired and welcome,
Are gently swaying in my mind,
Andà darkà blue eyes, asà deep as welkin,
Are bloomingà on the distant side.
Deep
in my soul I haveà some riches
And IÒm the one who has the key!
YouÒre right, you heady monstrous creature! In vino veritas,à I see.à
Note
1àIn
vino veritas - The truth is in wine (Latin)
à
April,
24th, 1906, Ozerki
à
àThe Guardian Angel
I
love you , my Guardian Angel,à you are A
sparkle in darkness, my guiding star.
I
love you because youÒreà my fair bride, Because
ofà my secrets you have deprived.
Becauseà
we are bound by secret and night, Because
youÒre my mother, my daughter, my bride.
I
love you because we areà destined in life To
be ever together as husband and wife.
I
love you for prayers of yours and my chains And
for the family cursers and pains.
I
love you for hating whatever I do Like
helpingà the poor whom I give their due.
I
love you, because we just canÒt live at one, Becauseàà
I can killà a detestable man.
IÒdà
kill in revenge for the weak and the blind, The
one who abased me and people of mine.
à The
one who has jailed the strong and the free, Who
didnÒtàbelieve in my fire and me.
Who
wants to deprive me of light of the day And
purchase submission from me in some way.
I
love you because I am weak,àà I admit My
ancestors were of servile breed.
The
poison of kindness hasà taken my life, I
cannot resort to the use of a knifeÅ
I
love you because I am weak,à I believe YouÒre
strong,à and youÒve knownà the savour of grief.
For
what is burnt down andà coated with lead Cannot
be tornà and stamped out,à you bet!
We
witnessedà this sunset,à and now you and I Are
watching this bottomless abyss, oh my!
Dualà
bidding of destiny - how can it be ? We
areà vicious slaves! Our souls are free!
Be
humble and daring!à DonÒt go! Get away! WhatÒs
up ahead? Is it night or day?
Where
are we going? Who calls? Who will cry? Together
-à forever Ö constrained - you and Ià !
Shall
we revive? Shall we perish and die?
==============================
August
17th, 1906
à
ààààààààààààààà
* * *
à
With
inspiration and such sweetness
The
princess sang about May.
I
said : ÓJust wait, my dear princess,
YouÒll
have to cry for me some dayÔ.
à
She
cuddled to me drawingà near
And
said: ÓOh no, forgive me, pray.
Go
fighting sword in hand, my dear.
I
will safeguard you on your way.
à
Go.
YouÒllà come back displaying boldness
With
feeling of your duty done.
I
will retain the ice and coldness,
Remaining
yours, locked up, at one.
à
The
passers-by will stop and stare,
The
years will moderately float
There
will be rustling in the air
And
clear water in the moatÅ
à
Yes,
I will meet you, though belated,
IÒll
stretch my hand rejoiced, you bet!
My
warrior, so long awaited,
With
spring upon the spearheadÔ.
à
The
haze has fallen on the turret,
The
castle, you and everything.
IÒm
sorry, princess. IÒve been hurried
To
find and bring the flaming spring.
à
October,
1906
à
àààààààààààààààà
à
àààààààààààààààààà
***
à
Aboveà
the forest, field and meadow,
Above
the land andà water flow
So
fresh, congenial and mellow,
You
turn up everywhere I go.
à
Your
waist under the summer cloud,
Your
waist , wrapped up inà fur, I praise,
I
sing and laud ità out loud,
Enveloped
in poetic haze.
à
Through
years and streams, imparting wisdom,
Upon
the cross,à and when IÒm tight,
My
friend,à my dear child of freedom,
I
love you , dearly, my light.
à
July
8th, 1907
à
à
ààààààààààààààà
***
à
At
night I was conceived and born.
Oh
my! I saw the light:
So
mournful was my motherÒs moan,
So
black the hollow night.
à
And
when ità clearedà
up anew
The
day got filled with schemes,
Withà
lots ofà tedious things to
do.
Dull,
boringà heaps of things.
à
ÓWhatever
happens,à let it beÔ-
The
organ played. Somehow
Since
childhood itÒs been knownà to me,
-
I
am a poet now.
à
Affection
blossomed in my curls,
And
sorrow still remains.
So
many times, so many girls
Have
kept me locked in chains.
à
And
life wentà on the way it should:
Love,
poems grief and fun.
The
quiet stream took, as ità would,
All
in its bed at one.
à
The
night was blind, and so was I.
ThatÒs
what I wanted, tooÅ
One
day theyà dug myà
grave - oh my! -
And
said:à God be with you!
à
That
nightà the ice began to break
And
flood the river-bed.
I
thought the river was awake,
And
soà I went ahead.
à
That
nightà the stream was dark as pitch,
And
entering the night
A
woman turned up on the bridge
Just
like a beam of light
à
She
was a living flame on ice,
A
flare of wine and snow.
And
if you looked into her eyes
What
she was like youÒd know.
à
She
took me gently by the hand
And
looked me in the face.
She
gave a cover to me and
A
ringà with silverà
lace.
à
ÓStop
living, andà donÒt say a word,
IÒm
like a ringing storm.
IÒm
living in a different world,
And
yet I am bright and warm.
à
She
calls and temptsà me. And I see
Snow
has swept up the earth.
WhatÒs
there that rings and sings for me?
Another
life? Or death?
à
April
12th, 1907
à
***
à
I
know your face so well, my fair,
It
feels like you have lived with me.
At
home,à at parties, - everywhere
Your
dainty look is what I see.
à
Your
footsteps follow me wherever
I
go or happen to be in.
Somebody
chases me as ever
IsnÒt
it you , - the one I mean?
à
ItÒs
you whoà flashes by, my fair,
The
moment I am at the door,
Invisible,
and light asà air,
Like
an amazingàà dream I saw.
à
I
saw youà in the graveyard, dear,
You
sat in silence,à looking blue,
A
maid in cottonà kerchief here,
I
wonder, was it really you?
à
I
came up closer, you were sitting,
As
I approached you went away.
When
by the river you were singing
The
bells responded with a play.
à
The
sound of ringing filled the air,
I
waitedà humbly and I criedÅ
Behind
the sound of chimes, however,
Your
voice had faded out and diedÅ
à
And
in a while I hear no answer.
The
kerchief flashes up aheadÅ
I
sadly hope there is a chance that
WeÒll
see each other somewhere yet.
à
August
1, 1908
à
***
à
When
you are on my way,
So
live and so beautiful,
So
tired and weary,
Talking
sadly
And
thinking of death,
You
donÒt love anyone
And
despise your beauty, -
Well,
can àI possibly hurt you?
à
Oh
no! IÒm not an oppressor,
Nor
an arrogant man nor a liar,
Though
I know many things,
And
have been, since my childhood, àa
thoughtful man,
And
I care too much for myself.
After
all, IÒm a writer,
A
man calling things by their proper names,
Depriving
a flower of delicate fragrance.
à
No
matter how much one talks about sad things
No
matter how much one thinks of the beginning and the end,
I
dare thinkà anyway,
That
youÒre only fifteen,
And
I wish you fell in love with an ordinary man
That
loves the earth and the sky
More
than the rhymed andà unrhymed speeches
About
the earth and the sky.
à
I
will really be glad for you,
For
only a loving man has the right
to
be called a Human being.
February
6th, 1908
à
Russia
à
Three
shabby straps begin to flutter
Like
in the golden years again,
And
sticking in the slushy gutter
The
motley spokes can hardly gain.
à
Oh
Russia, wretched Russia,
dear,
Yourà
houses,à so gray and rough,
Your
songs that blow, up in the air,
Appear
as clear as tears of love.
à
IÒm
bearing my cross, my dear,
Shall
I feel sorry? Well, I wonÒt...
Just
give your beauty, so austere,
To
any sorcerer, you want.
à
He
will deceive you and ensnare, -
Yet
you wonÒt perish, nor get lost.
And
only burdened mind and care
Will
hide your charm beneath the frost.
à
Well,
well... ItÒs justà another care,
A
teardrop in the stream again,
With
fields and forests here and there,
With
figured wimples, - youÒre the same.
à
Now
allà is real in this instance
And
easy is the road that lies
When
from the kerchief, in the distance,
I
see the flashing light of eyes,
When
in a cautiousà gloomy tone
Resounds
the coacherÒs hollow song!..
à
November
18th, 1908
à
***
You
are as brightà as snow, my dear.à
And like a church,à you look so white.
I donÒt believe this night,à so drear,
And the despairing eventide.
Nor
do I want to trust all over
my soul ,à worn out forevermore.
So, maybe,à I,à belatedà rover,
Will knockà upon your quiet door.
You
will forgive the foul player
For his perniciousà pain andà grief,
And stretch your hand to the betrayer
And give himà flowers as a gift.
November
8th,à 1908
***
à
I
would forget about courage, winning,
Aboutàà
gloryàà in the grievous land
When
I looked up to see your portrait beaming
Inà
an uncomely frame I had at hand.
à
The
time had come and you left home for ever.
I
threw the cherishedà ring into the
night.
You
gave your destiny to someone in your favour,
And
I forgot your charming face all right.
à
Days,à
like a hatefulà swarm,à
flew by, a-whirling ,
By
passion andà carouse my life was
doneÅ
And
I remembered you before the lectern, darling,
I
called you like my youth,à nowà
past and gone.
à
I
called your name but somehow you looked down,
I
cried - you didnÒt care about my mood;
You
wrapped yourself up in a dark blue gown,
It
was wet night when you left home for good.
à
My
love, I donÒt know where youÒve settled down
And
where youÒve found a shelter for your pride..
IÒm
fast asleep, and I can see the gown
You
were wearing as you left home that night.
à
To
dream about caressà I wonÒt be able
For
youthà is past and gone,à
along with fame!
So
I have put your portrait off the table,
Your
lovely face in an uncomelyà frame!
à
December
30th, 1908
à
à
à
***
à
The
way she did before, she wanted
To
breathe in life into my heart,
Into
my body, all exhausted,
Into
my chilly habitat.
à
She
came along like azure welkin,
I
couldnÒt rise from bed to go,
Nor
could I stir my armà to welcome
And
tell her I had missed her so!...
à
I
watched her withà my eyes dim,à
hollow,
Whatever
was she grieving for?..
There
werenÒtà any words,à
nor sorrow,
Nor
joy between us any more.
à
The
earthly heart was tired and wasted.
So
many days and years have past!...
The
earthlyà happiness,à
belated,
Came
riding in a cab so fast!
à
Now,
deathly sick and broken down,
IÑm
yearning for the change ofà tide,
IÒm
contentà with the sundown
And
unafraid of endless night.
à
I
had eternityÒs sensation
With
peace and quiet in my heart,
It
quenchedà theà
fire of vexation
With
chilly dampnessà of the nightÅ
à
July
30th, 1908
à
à
***
à
Streets
wereà empty,à
it was just another
Boring
night !
Why
were you so innocent, andà rather
Filled
with pride?
à
Drops
of soaking darkness falling down Å
I
will rise,
And
IÒllà throw a challenge, with a frown,
To
the skies.
à
ThereÒs
no happiness on earth,à undoubted,
Here
we stand.
Now
and then we think about it
Gun
in hand..
à
And
again we laugh and shed a tear,
Life
goes on!
Well,
itÒs just another day;à itÒs clear:
WeÒll
be gone!
à
November
4th, 1908
à
à
à
à
***
To
boring, tedious noise and ringing
And to the city empty fuss,
Relaxed at heart, now IÒm leaving
Into the drizzle, void and dusk.
I
cut the fibre of my senses,
My whereabouts I forgetÅ
I see, the snow, trams, buildings, fences
With lights and darkness up ahead.
And
what if I, bewitched, enchanted,
My conscience thread beyond retrieve,
Come home disgraced and broken-hearted,-
Will you be able to forgive?
You
are my leading light, my wizard,
You know the target, I presume,
Will you forgive my storms and blizzards,
My trash, my poetry and gloom?
Or,à
p'rhaps, youÒd better, not forgiving,
Awake the bells upon the dome,
So that the slash at night, misleading,
Might not seclude me from my home?
September 2, 2006
February
2, 1909
Theà
Double
à
One
day in foggy October
I
walkedà recollectingà
a song,
(The
instance of kissingà all over!
Caresses
that cannot be wrong!)
Atà
lastà inà
the foggy October
There
cameà the forgotten song.
à
I
dreamed I was young and not worried,
And
you were as live as a bloomÅ
My
dream took meà out and carried
Away
from the wind, rain and gloomÅ
(ThatÒs
howà by our dreams we are scurriedÅ
So
will you come back, live as a bloom?)
à
Andà
then, emerging from darkness,
Aà
staggering youth,à comes to
me.
(Oh
what an amazingà likeness
To
someone I happened to see!)
Emerging
fromà foggyà
darkness,
Aà
staggering youth,à comes to
me.
à
ÓIÒm
tired of roamingà - he grouses-
And
taking the air, so cold,
Reflecting
inà mirrors of others
And
kissingà those girls,à
young and oldÅÔ
Ià
fancied that some day or other
IÒd
meet him againà in this worldÅ
à
Then,à
smiling with self assertion,
He
vanished for ever moreÅ
Sad
imageÅI had the impression
Thatà
I hadà seen it beforeÅ
Perchance
it wasà me whom I saw
Turn
up as a mirror reflection?
October
1909
***
I
while away my reckless life,à
My life, extremely dull and sombre,
Now I rejoice, restrained and sober,
Now I shed tears, sing and strive.
But
if one day I am to die?
What if behind me, stands the visage,
That covers mirror, like an image,
With his enormous hand? Ohàmy !
The
mirror light will flash and burn,
IÒll close my eyes in trepidation
And IÒll retreat to destination
From where no one will returnÅ
September
17th, 1910
àààààààà
àààààààààààààààà
àààà
At the Restaurantààààà
à
I will never forget it (did it
happen-who cares?)
Burnt and split by the sunset
blaze
Was the pallid celestial vast,à
and some flares
Came to light inà
the yellow space.
à
à
There I sat by the window,à
in a crowded chamber.
Fiddlesticks were singing again.
And I sent you a flower, black
rose, I remember,
Inà
a goblet withà golden champagne.
à
As you glanced, full of pride,à
I was slightlyà embarrassed,
But I looked and I bowed from
above.
And addressing the man standing
by, harsh and balanced,
You said: ÓThis one is also in
loveÔ.
à
à
All at onceà
the guitarsà started playing
the song and
Fiddlesticks played inà
tuneàà with the bandÅ
But you were with me with your
youthful dishonour,
I could see by the move of your
hand.
à
à
And you
dashedà like a bird as if suddenly
roused,
Passing
by, like my dream you were lightÅ
And there
came a sweetà fume,à
and the eyelashes drowsed
To the
whisper of silkà in the night.
à
Now and
then from the mirror at me youÒd be glancing,
As you
didà ÓCatch it nowÔà
you would askÅ
And the
jewelryà rattled, the gipsyà
kept dancing
And she
screamedà of herà
love to the dusk.
à
April
19th, 1910
à
* * *
à
There
is impulsive youth again,
With bursts of vigour, views far-outÅ
But happy moments never came.
At least this doesnÒt raise a
doubt!
à
You have to be on the alert
For threat awaitsà
you here and yonder.
And should you get away unhurt,
You will, at last, believe in
wonder.
à
At last youÒll see andà
understand
That fortune wasnÒt your intention,
And that the futileà
dream you had
Was of extremely brief duration.
à
The cup was filled and overflowed
With joyà
ofà exquisite creation,
And all I had is your possession,
And we are bound with the world.
à
I think that every now and then,
Youà
will remember, smiling dearly,
The dubiousà
childish dream we tend
To take for happiness,à
naively!
à
1912
à
***
à
Ià
bless my lucky stars above,
Aàà
better fate I donÒtà desire.
My heart, so much
youà youÒve beenà
in love!
My mind, so oft youÒve
been afire!
à
Thoughà
happy times and grievous torments
Have leftà
their bitter trace, allà right,
Yet in the boredom,
storm and torrents
I havenÒt lost my
former light.
à
You whom I tormented,
forgive me.
We shouldnÒt go divided
ways,
What canÒt be said
in words, believe me,
I have discovered
in your face.
à
I have my eye on it
and worry,
My heart is beatingà
in dismay,
At night, throughà
darkness, snow and flurry
It goes its own righteous
way.
à
January 15th , 1912
à
To Muse
à
à
There isà fatal
news of perdition
In your innermost songs through and through.
ThereÒsà a curse
of holy volition
And affront of happiness, too.
à
Their power, soà captivating,
Makes me sayà whatà
everyone says:
Fair angels youÒve been abating
Fascinate them with your grace.
à
When you laugh at belief, my dear,
There suddenly shines over you
The insipidà amaranth
sphere
Which, at one time, came in my view.
à
Good or bad, youÒre here for a wander.
People say , andà itÒs
just as well:
Some believe you areà
Muse and wonder
While for me you are torment and hell.
à
I donÒt know how it allà
came about,
I was feeble and impotent,
too,
I saw you,à and
I didnÒt burn out
But I sought consolation in you...
à
Well, I wantedà discord
and contention,
And I wander: how you did you come
To present me with constellation,
Meadow, flowers, and
curse of your charm?
à
Your caresses, soà
frenzied and tipsy,
Were wilder thanà night
and rain,
much more fleeting than love of a jypsy
Andà
much headier than golden champagne.
à
There wasà fatalà
delight and pleasure
In the trampling of what is saint,
Bitter passion, like herb, as a measure
Of delight and the heartÒs content!
à
December 29th,
à1912
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
* * *
à
My
friend, youÒll understand, of course!
Now at this hour of
dejection
Like magic,à
firmly,à desperation
Dismays meà
fillingà with remorseÅ
à
Why is there so much
depression
And pain in my contractedà
chest?
I donÒt need lights,
and I confess
IÒm tired of any congregation.
à
Those waiting for
the Lord, with biasÅ
The thing they find
is justà the devilÅ
They are despaired
by the revel
Ofà
Satan always telling liesÅ
à
Those showingà
mercy gentle-willed
And wounding others
willy-nillyÅ
Or should we stop
attempting,àà really,
Forà
ailment is the only shield?
à
December 29th,
1912
à
***
à
Worlds,
years go by. The universe is bare.
Its eyes of gloom
areà staring at us.
And you, my soul,à
worn-out, unaware,
Hold forth that happiness
will come to passÅ
à
And what is happiness?
The chilly evenings
In darkening gardens,
god-forsaken wood?
Or vicious taste of
wine, àand wanton feelings,
Perdition of the soul,
and jovial mood?
à
Is happiness a moment,
brief and solid?
Is it oblivion, a
dream,à andà
peace and quiet?..
As you wake up à-
itÒsà flight again, so horrid,
Touching your heart,
unknown crazy flightÅ
à
You take a breath
-à and see youÒre out of dangerÅ
ThatÒs where you feel
a sudden push again!
The spinning-top set
going by some stranger
Flies buzzing in a
hurry,à like insane.
à
As weà
get hold of sharp and sliding border
And listenà
to the buzzing sound of chime,-
DonÒt we go madà
amidst the motley order
And change ofàà
made-up reasons, space and time?..
à
When will it stop?
We wonÒt be able, really,
To listen to this
dinà without end...
How terrible it is
! How wild ! Extremely!
Give me a hand, forget
it all, my friend!
à
July 2, 1912
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
à
***
I see
the long forgotten blaze,
And I can clearlyà
hear, in silence,
Another song behind the violins,
The chesty voice the filled the space.
à
That Ñs how she answered all my pledges,
My love and passion,à
first and last,
I recognize it when the blast
Of wind andà blizzard
wails and rages.
à
The past has gone without a trace,
And only some oneÒsà
aspiration
Remindsà me
somehow, with good grace,
Ofà happiness
and exultation.
à
December 12th, 1913
à
***
à
You and I are
forlorn,à I presume.
LetÒs relaxà in
this quiet room.
à
In this corner, so warm and so bright,
Let us watch the October night.
à
As before, there are lights outside.
Dear friend, we are old and retired.
à
All is gone:à hardship,
blizzards and dread.
Why on earth are you looking ahead?
à
It appears you wish you could read
News or message you badly need.
à
Are you waiting for an angelÒs gift?
All is gone and canÒt be retrieved.
à
All we have are the books, walls and days.
Dear friend, we wonÒt change our ways.
à
I donÒt grumble, my wishes are small,
And I donÒtà grieve
for bygones at all.
à
And I wonder just why you begin
Threadingà beads
on a shinyà string
à
Like you did in the past, long ago,
Those were really theà
days, you know!
à
But you were young then,à
and how!
And your silk was brighter than now.
à
Youà were veryà
dexterousà thenÅ
Take a bright,à shiningà
threadà again,
à
So the shine of the thread, like a spark,
Might subdue,à and
surmountà the dark..
à
October 19th, 1913
à
à
à
à
à
à
***
à
Oh no ! You cannotà
disenchant my heart
With flatter, beauty,à
or appreciation.
IÒll be a stranger, someone far apart,
A ghost, devoid of life, in your imagination.
à
YouÑll go away. And you will kiss devoutly
Aà snow-white
shroud, andà by candle lights
YouÒll dream and fancy burying someone sadly
And standing at the head three days and nights.
à
Content with the amazing dreamy hours
You will reproach your life in the extreme.
And you will decorate with tenderà
flowers
The burial hill you fancied in your dream.
à
Andà suddenly
youÒll see my shadeà appear
Before you on the ninth and fortieth day:
Unrecognized, uncomely, plain and drear,
The kind of shade you looked for, by the way!
à
Withà time yourà
grieves and sorrowsà will
fade out,
