Retribution

So -
Rotates predator muddy SPAR,
Patients straightening wings.

"How interesting, how clever », –
For general chorus repeats
smaller daughter. And inferior
Father. And in the house to them invited
Our novoyavlennыy Bayrón
And the invitation is received.

The family accepted, as the native,
handsome youth. initially
In an old house on the Neva
His, as a guest, privechali,
But soon attracted the elderly
His noble vintage warehouse,
Custom polite and decorous:
Although free and wide
Was the new Lord in their views,
But politeness he kept
And kissing ladies' hands
He is without the slightest contempt.
His brilliant mind
contradictions forgive,
Contradictions of darkness
The goodness did not notice,
They eclipsed talent shine,
In the eyes of some Gorenje…
(You hear crackling downed wings? –
Predator eyestrain…)
With people it even then
Smile Native youth,
Even in those early years
The game is easy and can be…
He did not know the darkness of his own…

He dined in the house easily
And often all in the evenings
Lively and ardent conversation
captivate. (Though he was a lawyer,
But poetic example
not disdain: Constant befriended
It Pushkin, and Stein - with Flaubert.)
freedom, right, ideal -
It was not a joke for him,
He was just terrible secret:
is he, claiming, denied
And he claimed, denying the.
(All B - in the extremes of the mind to wander -
A golden middle
Mark did not give him!)
He hated - love
Sometimes I sought to encircle,
As if the body wanted to pour
Alive, Played blood…
«Talent», - repeated all around, –
But, not be proud (not conceding),
He suddenly strange marred…
The soul is sick, but mladaya,
fearing yourself (she's right),
She seeks solace: chýzhdy
She became a word…
(ABOUT, verbal dust! What needs
As you? - to console you just eh,
You hardly loose flour!) –
And submissive piano
My lord lay down arms,
tearing sounds, like flowers,
madly, stout and bold,
As women's rags rags
Since the body is ready to give…
Strand upadana on the forehead…
He was shaken in a secret shiver…
(All, all - in an hour, When on a bed
Two desire wove…)
And there - the music of the storm -
suddenly there (as then)
Some image - sad, tour across,
incomprehensible never…
And the wings of the white in blue,
And the unearthly silence…
But this quiet string
I am drowning in a musical storm…

Why was? - Everything, that should be:
handshake, conversations,
Eyes downcast dale…
The future is separated
Barely noticeable traits
from this… He became
His family. he beauty
Smaller daughter charmed,
I empire (not owning a kingdom)
He promised her. And he
she believed, wan…
And the house of her mother in jail
he turned (at the least
With a prison not skhodstvoval this house…)
but foreign, empty, it became wildly
All, especially sweet, circle -
Under this strange charm
Promising new speeches,
Under this demon flicker
Boring flame eyes…
He - life, it - happiness, He - the element,
She found the hero in it, –
And the whole family, and all native
Preti, prevent it around,
And all her excitement multiplies…
She does not know herself,
What to flirt can not.
It - almost lost my mind…
And he? –
he hesitates; He does not know,
Why did he linger, for what?
And yet not in the least tempted
Demonic army he…
Not, my character is quite thin
And sagacious, not to know,
As a poor child was suffering,
What happiness to a child -
Now - in its single authority…
Not, not… but froze in his chest
Hitherto fiery passion,
And someone whispers: weather…
That - mind the cold, cruel mind
He joined the unexpected right…
That - flour lonely life
He predicts head…
"Not, he does not like, he plays, –
repeats it, cursing fate: –
What torments and frightens
is he, bezzashtitnuyu, me…
He does not hurry Explanation,
As if he is waiting for something…»
(Look: so the predator power saving up:
Now - a sick wave his wings,
On the meadow falls silent
And will drink the blood of the living
Already with terror - crazy,
trembling victim…) - That is - love
Togo vampirstvennogo century,
Which turned into cripples
Worthy of human!

Whether thrice cursed, pathetic century!
Another groom at this point
Would have long shake off the dust from your feet,
But my character was too honest
And it could not deceive:
He does not like country proud,
And it was given to him to know,
What a demon, and Don Juan
In an age to behave - funny…
He knew a lot - his sorrow,
Slyvya wonder "oddball"
In the chorus of a human friendly,
Which we often call
(amongst themselves) - a flock of sheep…
But - "vox populi - the voice of God»,
And it is often necessary to remember,
At least, eg, now:
If only he was a stupid little
(his only weapon, but, in the wine?), –
May be, best way
Currently it could elect,
AND, may be, with such tender
Dvoryanskaya girl tied
Its cool and rebellious rock, –
my character was not right…

All poems of Alexander Blok