Discussion in 'Creative Corner' started by ibshambat, Dec 25, 2019.

  1. ibshambat

    ibshambat Well-Known Member

    Jul 2, 2015
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    In evenings over the restaurants

    Wild and unheedful is hot air,

    And spirit of the spring entranced

    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,

    Above the bored summer estates,

    With gold light luminesces the bakery,

    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,

    Bending their collars as they walk,

    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,

    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and

    The women's shouts resound with verve

    And in the heavens, used to everything,

    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular

    From sides of glass reflects at me

    With dampness hardy and mysterious,

    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me

    Linger the lackeys through the night,

    "In vino veritas" shout happily

    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,

    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock

    Of ladies, in silk covered,

    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and

    Accompanied by none, alone,

    Perfume and spring fog emanating

    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing

    Her tight and incandescent silks,

    And hat with feathers funereal, and

    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,

    I gaze on her dark jewelry

    And I see the enchanted coast, and

    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,

    In my trust is somebody's sun,

    And all the facets of my soul

    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are

    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,

    And bottomless blue eyes from far

    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and

    The key is given just to me!

    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!

    I see: In wine, there's verity!


    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and

    Each student there makes wisecracks -

    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and

    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring

    And then the evanescent dawn

    Above the dust-encrusted terminals

    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,

    Once in a while she comes to me -

    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,

    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs

    Beyond the sleep of daily grind

    Shines and is visible her jewelry,

    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by

    My star of happiness, anew,

    And also deafened and discomfited

    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material

    And with the blackest silks entwined

    Under the helmet with funereal

    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,

    Say, what am I to do with you -

    The one unique and unattainable,

    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok

    Translated by Ilya Shambat

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