Andrey Beliy - Poem I

АНДРЕЙ БЕЛЫЙ
Я: Стих
ANDREY BELIY
POEM: I

Far is your way: it’s far and harsh,
The sickle’s raised, as sharpest knife.
You see me there. Then hear a call.
I call and tell: make out all.
The rye’s in rage. The Sun does rise
And night’s as if a shade of past.
With you stands She. Alike a shade.
A shade of yours. Just stands and waits.
With you – is yours. But, you’re – alone,
Nor life, nor death, nor light, nor stone…
Though days eternal stand and wait,
Whilst days do run; they run and melt,
Proceed and enter boring state.
We can’t defeat or beat their ways,
Oh, night, do veil with ring of shades,
You’ll rest, if not just stand and wait.
You do forget and yet exist
And just reflect from dreams at least.
You dwelled in them in silence grand
And days were pale and had no end.
And day was same, and same was night
A swarm of past was flying kite…
You can’t withstand,
Nor can’t withdraw…
Might girdle night
Whilst shadows flow…