By Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
Please, do love that eternal bog land:
Never would their strength diminish.
This cereal, burned, - won't be spent.
And this bush - without decay - will be lean.
Those rusty such hummocks and stubs
Know your restful force of captivity.
So invariably eternal they are, -
You're changing in front of Eternity.
Thus the lonely fate is more bright.
Thus inprimary share is sacred.
The Eternity thus downflied
And forever the lips closed there.
03/06/1905
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem