White Angel, From Konstantin Balmont Poem by Liza Sud

White Angel, From Konstantin Balmont

White Angel, from Konstantin Balmont

From childhood days one trait has captivated
My dreams, in whose swells sleep has melted down.
It has sown in my eyes a sad reflection,
which as quiet distant peal came in my mind.

I dreamed of a sad angel, white as snow,
With a smile of repentance in his eyes,
I breathed with him one sadness so uncertain,
And saw in his tears pale Paradise.

To me in different moments he appeared,
Of these runaway meetings I keep light.
These glimpses cannot fall into oblivion,
This glance without words, speech which can't run dry.

I loved - and I'm still loving - all from heavens
The mind of the heart - the beam of cold mind,
And I believe in heanev, blue and native,
Where all the vague I clearly understand.

With heavenly I can't be seperated,
And when I meet with somebody's deep glance,
I am with him, I meet with the White Angel,
Mysterious and close for a long time.


***

Белый ангел» Константин Бальмонт

От детских дней одна черта пленила
Мои мечты, в чьих зыбях таял сон,
В глаза печальный отблеск заронила,
В мой ум вошла как дальний тихий звон.

Мне снился грустный ангел, белоснежный,
С улыбкой сожаления в глазах,
Я с ним дышал одной печалью неясной,
Я видел бледный Рай в его слезах.

Он мне являлся в разные мгновенья,
И свет храню я этих беглых встреч.
Есть проблески, которым нет забвенья,
Есть взгляд без слов, его не молкнет речь.

Любил — еще люблю я — неземное,
Ум сердца — луч холодному уму,
Я верю в Небо, синее, родное,
Где ясно все неясное пойму.

С небесным я душой не разлучаюсь,
И встретив чей-нибудь глубокий взор,
Я с ним, я с Белым Ангелом встречаюсь,
Таинственным и близким с давних пор

Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: angel,translation
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Daniel Brick 06 December 2016

OK, here is an angel not worthy of heaven, it's not a demon, just not pure enough, or truthful enough to live in Heaven. But Balmont did not abandon it, he wrote a poem of understanding and compassion. Am I so much less than this White Angel that my fate at your hands is exile. I vividly remember as a child thinking I wasn't worthy like my sister and parents. I felt cut off from saving grace, an outsider unblessed if not cursed. Where did that view come from? I grew out of that phase of my life but I NEVER forgot that sense of exile. No Balmont gave me comfort. I feel that sense of exile again, and no Balmont comforts and helps. Must I be both White Angel and Poet, both victim and rescuer?

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Liza Sudina 06 December 2016

Daniel, after reading such a painful comment - I see that you need to be needed. So why to lose you? if I may use you! Let's make a book - you choose from my poems those without mistakes in English and make Selected poems. You may also write your favorite comments and preface. Without you I can't see mistakes. So - you ask who you must be - both editor and commentator! I want to publish it in 2016, since I wrote them in 2016. So be quick please!

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