Be cursed the light of truth,
if it idly pleases the indifferent mediocrity
which is both envious and greedy to the temptation!
-Oh no! I hold the sublime fiction in still higher esteem
than a prodigious number of commonplace truths.
Would you mind leaving a heart with the hero?
What he will be without it? If only a tyrant…
Some day I’ll be back to you,
Lord, Demiurge, Cheap John,
and so I’ll come in,
taking off my weary flesh,
as if it were an overcoat.
In answer for all questions
about the burden of years
which fit into my bag
I’ll be only able to tell in reply
that I was head over heels
in love with you, that you know yourself
now I look without envy on
someone who will come after me.
Other than that I did not do anything there
and not prone to regret.
Oh, about what mountains,
about what seas you are sure to tell me
in the morning for that torment,
for that fear, for the scars on my back!
At thunderstorms or at the brass monkey weather of life,
with heavy losses and when you’re merely sad –
it’s the highest art in the world to seem smiling and simple.
There are three mysterious springs in the sad boundless mundane space.
The first one is the youth’s, which is swift and riotous seethes running, sparkling and murmuring.
The second one is Castalian spring, in the worldly steppe it gives exiles its wave of inspiration to drink.
The last one is the cold spring of oblivion, it will quench the heat of heart still better than others.
А raven flies to another one, the raven cries cawing to it:
“Raven, where we are to dine? How could we find out about it?”
The second raven said cawing to the first one in reply:
“I know, we will have lunch; in the open field under the willow bush
a dead hero lays. By whom and why he was killed,
only his falcon knows it, also his black mare and his young mistress”.
The falcon flew off into the woods, his mare was mounted by a foe,
his mistress are waiting for her not killed but alive dear.
How happiness comes slowly,
how it flies away quickly from us!
That is blessed who does not strive after it,
but finds it in oneself! In my sad youth
I was happy one minute, but then, alas! –
I suffered the fierce bitterness
from both fate and people as well!
Even if for an hour we are pleased
with the deception of hope!
That is blessed whose heart
heeds the voice of hope even in trouble!
But already runs away the dream
that sometime flattered soul;
hope was unfaithful to heart,
in sequence of that a sigh flyes after it!
I want to be often deluded
and to forget the disloyal one… but no!
Now I see the light of obnoxious truth
and ought to give up the dream!
I’ve lost all in the world,
was wilted the bloom of my youth:
love that was dreamt about as happiness,
only love alone was left in me!
My Lilliputian babygirl, please come to me! Let’s stay tet-a-tet for a while! I’ll waltz with you in a carefree manner as a free bird, my dream, my Lilliputian babygirl. My Lilliputian darling, my love, confusing my words, I sing without them: Tra-La-La-La-La…….. My Lilliputian babygirl, my cherished dream!