By Alexander Blok
Accordion, accordion!
Hey, sing and squeal, and burn!
Hey, the buttercups deep yellow,
The spring flower's colour!
There with the whistling 'n' trilling
They walk up to the dawn,
And bushes with rustle are leaning,
And nodding to me: look on.
And I see - she waved up her hands,
And rushed to fervent dance,
She showered all with flowers,
And bursted a song to us...
The untruthful, crafty being,
As well as artful - dance!
And let you be a poison real
For soul spent, at last!
I'll go mad, and mad I'll become!
I love you madly, I rave hardly,
You are - the night, you are - the dark,
You're in the hop entirely...
You are - my soul hardly keep,
With poison push it down..
You are - the only one I sing,
And songs about you - uncountable! ..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem