A.Blok, The World Is Flying... - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina
The world is flying. Years - flying. And empty universe
Is looking from the darkness of her eyes.
And you, a tired, deaf and vague soul,
Is reiterating of the happiness - what time?
What is happiness? The evening freshness
In garden darkening, in the forest wild?
Or the delights of wine, such gloomy, vicious,
Or the death of soul from the passions hard?
What is happiness? One close moment,
Oblivion and rest of all the life...
On waking up- again the unknown
And crazy flying, grasping heart.
On taking breath, you see - the danger's over...
But in that very second - once again
You feel a push! And a spinning top
Is flying, buzzing, helter-skelter!
And, seizing a slipping, sharp edge, hearing
The constant buzzing, ringing in our ears, -
Ain't we turn crazy of the change of reasons,
Far-fetched, of time's and space's flickers?
When will be end? The sound teasing
Is bothersome, I'm tired all without rest...
How awful all is! How wild! - Take hand, my comrade,
Take, my friend! Let's seek oblivion again.
2 July 1912
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