A.Blok, In the endless corridors... - translation (rus.)
By Alexander Blok
In the endless distance of the corridors
Isn't that she, who's dancing far?
Isn't that me, who rudely was rended off
By a dispute while music flight?
Neither you, people, could me tell anything,
Nor you'd find, how dark is my temple.
Only shivering of your breast, only
Is unclosed to my eyes, inflamed.
Look, my heart is a bird of oblivion,
In the golden, but flying-by beam:
It is she, who is like a drunkard whirling,
Celebrating thus the funeral feast.
Nothing she does need from the modest man,
Nor she needs a wit, silly man far,
And she doesn't like such as me, staying
Near wall, having darkness in mind...
Oh my heart, please, rise up as a light bird high,
Fly upwards and awaken my love!
Tame her eyelashes then with the lanquor,
To her white-swarty shoulders tie!
And the beating heart, as a bird, captive -
Look, it's circling around afar
In light dance - as the bird in the heavens,
Nor to one, nor to anything tied..
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