A.Blok, It's A Game... - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina
By Alexander Blok
It's a game: to come in carefully,
Untouching the attention of other people.
And catch by eyes the prey,
And to follow it invisibly.
Even if he will be rude, unheedful,
A man, who is followed by you, really -
He will feel your gaze fixed,
Even in the corners of his trembled lips.
And the other one - will accept that at once:
His shoulders will shiver, and hand - the same;
He will look over - but sees nothing;
Meanwhile, grows his anxiety.
That's why the quality of this look is terrible,
Because of its perfect elusiveness.
You really can feel it,
But can't understand what eyes follow you.
Neither love or revenge, or self-interest.
That is -only a play, as a child's game;
But in all meetings of people
There exists such a detective's pack.
And you, sometimes, wouldn't be aware of case,
Which in life is not so rare:
That you'd come to the people as the 'self',
As a 'non-self'- go away.
And there exists a bad or good eye,
But better not to have any watcher:
It's too many a force around, and in us,
Unknown, and playing their roles.
Oh, grief! Even in thousand years
We can't measure our souls far:
We will hear the fly of all planets,
And thunder bursting in silence...
We live in unknown world, meanwhile,
Without comprehension of our power,
But, as children, playing with fire,
We burn both ourselves and the others...
16 Dec 1913
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