In the twilight of the cathedral
I read your scroll:
Your voice - only groan from the choir,
Ston extended and deaf.
And I have to test you:
A lot of them, looking for me,
Onetime glance,
unquenchable fire.
And then you back the scroll
On the same spot, on the wall,
for this, that a lot of passionate torture
You have learned on the way to me.
Who am I, you will not know for a long time,
At night you're eyes are not somknesh,
You, may be, like wax, Istan,
you death, may be, die.
Your groans and anguish,
Your longing - I have to?
You - only a vague vision
Worlds distant and deaf.
Look, You deserve much eh?
Look, how pathetic you are weak and,
Cowardly and unknown warrior,
Lazy and wicked servant!
And if a distant echo
To me comes your breath "love",
I thunderous laughter cold
You, Scourge, opal!
25 May 1908
