To convey feelings through him,
should not have been the night before Christmas
invade the coming darkness
double-headed candles on the corner,
afraid of stabbing and fighting,
artificially pushing gloom,
should not have demanded fire.
Yesterday's for tomorrow.
All feelings will be needed to death,
all feelings will be suddenly bared
in anticipation of murderous tidings,
as if in a stabbing passion
someone chasing after you.
In vain you did not turn off the lights!
Somnambulo street lights,
port, a list of shadows,
the abode, where the draft reigns,
the mansion swayed,
So, if someone is chasing after,
unrecognized in brilliance epaulette,
lost in the abyss of enfilade,
hugging baroque nipples,
will be infantry youths,
their blood will remain spilled,
their ladies and love will remain,
their apples, fallen from vases, –
Who shuddered under the sign "entrance"?
Who shuddered in anticipation of adversity,
foreseeing immense misfortune,
who flinched once a year,
who would not accept sin,
whose bright soul was deaf,
who in time reduced horizons,
who shuddered, anticipating shame?
Ridicule, bullying and shame:
out of reach - temple,
an example of indestructibility is a nut,
an example of inaccessibility is sin,
limit of equanimity - a glass
amidst the invincibility of mirrors.
Who will survive the walks on the Neva,
more careless, more beautiful, than you,
prettier, more beautifully dressed,
who doesn’t turn your back on you
with a beautiful smile, never
in whose heart leave no trace,
in whose gaze the blue flashes,
in whose gaze the Neva spreads,
whose black coat and blue
will ever be without us,
in the dark and in the presence of lights,
not feeling the presence of shadows?
Feeling no time, ni dat,
universal solitude and soledad,
beautiful hand and head
groping the root of the world,
groping in the snow and on the watch,
beautiful head in heaven,
lips and knees - everywhere
grope immensely Oh, D –
in the immeasurable Loneliness of the Soul,
in his home and beyond - in the wilderness
grope at home all year?
In disbelief - O Lord, my God,
seek out no blood pressure already, but yes –
grope your way out.
Speaking silently from the corner,
all childhood watching mirrors,
the limit of their equanimity is a pond,
immensely adoring emerald,
smirks of emerald guests –
will we feel the clade hidden in them,
inherently authentic chlad,
around him and around the circle,
authentic guise of the road,
will you really feel in them,
already changing myself a hundredfold,
curtain or curtain dragging,
will you feel in the mirror?
Take cover behind floor lamps in the corner,
take cover as an officer at the ball,
look at an apoplexy portrait,
what a delight and delirium,
on a Dürer's horse
into the dark for the temptation of sin,
squeezing thinned whiskey,
driving into the Apocalypse of longing,
look back again –
at the sight of overtaking shadows,
and the roar of fire-breathing horses,
and a red sword in wide skies
swinging, like a pendulum in a clock.