A.Blok, Oh, Why For Me The Dawn's Flush... -Transl. (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

by Alexander Alexandrovich Blok


Oh, why for me the dawn's flush now?

Why for the wicked troubles of partings?

All in this world is like the whirling dancing,

While two hands together are touching!

I see your pale cheeks, and I catch

Your swan-like light tread, and I hear

The opened talking and that

Your delicate name I love, dear!

And new dreams, which strayed to me now

Are making uneasy on way...

And a mantle of snow can't cover

Me all over head on this day...

Then rush along, whirl and torment me

The snowflakes are cold on news...

The threads of my soul so thin either -

Let's tear, disperse them, consume...

You're cold, my cold, my winter,

You see - in my soul is passion...

And my heart - stop, the sighing ascetic,

And let you die, the hymn, the anthem...

And again it flies, flies and flies,

And it rings, and snow wheels around,

The blizzard quickly rushes

All of snow sparkles.

You, as a vision, dancing

And among girlfriends,

Raced the cirle round,

So rapid, endless...

The conversation sounds,

Pale cheeks I chance

To see, your clear eyes...

With smile only, with cheer

I can explain my talk...

O happiness! O happiness!

We have the night for long!

And you again along vague path

Are flying away...

And sweeping up,

And singing... And again

Your body flexible

The cloud of the snow whirl

Has covered all,

Has taken you away...

And once again the blizzard's

twisting,

And whirling round, singing...

And all - betrayals, all - my visions...

In snow cup, with foam filled,

The hop

Is ringing...

And let wheel, let beat, let

The heart - hush then,

And cover the virgin's step -

There is no death!

In dark field - there's snow

Going!

There is many years -

To hard dole...

And again, again she returns

Her twisting...

The blizzard's singing. The sound is - clear.

And you again race

Round the circle,

And sparkling to friend

On the earth...

And what will be this dance?

With what light you entice

And tease me?

In this turning round

When you could get tired?

Which songs? And which sounds?

What am I afraid of?

And sounds such pressing...

Has Russia the free fate?



And loking like dreaming,

And looking like circling,

The Earth is escaping,

The solid is opened...

And like the insanity,

Like the tormenting,

There are the oblivion,

The daring, death, -

You're racing! You're racing!

You threw all your hands forth...

And raises up the song...

So strange gleaming features...

So hot is your dancing!

O energy! O song! O death! O my mask...

Is you - the accordion?

-

*The verse is subjected to the rhythm of snowfakes dancing...
In sillence the snowfakes are circling round the poet
and brings him the images, which are thrown away be the next round...