Translate to:

Igneous smoke skyward
Dimmed light of dawn.
Theater was shrouded in mist.
We are waiting for a new pantomime,
Over the evening crowd
lit lanterns.

Faces floated and replaced,
Drowned in the dark mass
crowds coming.
Through the mist of splintered beams,
And shimmering in the far office
gilded coats of arms.

booming city, quiver full,
Grew at the entrance to the hall.
Sounds wildly bursting…
But, flying up to the door of the box,
Rokot vaguely froze,
Where fans crowded…

In a dark room light loan
I could blink and relax.
In the box - prophetic Sybil,
Cloaked in immodest dress,
Black fan disbanded,
Black silk overshadowed
Pale dull chest.

Only in the eyes of concealed challenge,
But darkness poured into the eyes…
And from the boxes to the dark scene,
With gilded cornices,
Reflected, AC -
The light flickered in the eyes of onlookers…

I will leave the dream moody,
I'll be the first sight of the crowd:
Eyes death - look back!
You're drunk evening Duma,
You turn on the death:
I get up in turn with you!

25 September 1904

Most Read Block verses

All poems of Alexander Blok

Leave a Reply