From the crystal fog,
From the dream weird
There appeared one image strange...
(In the private room of restaurant
At a bottle of a wine) .
And the Gipsy's song's squeal
Had come flying from the halls,
The remote howl of violins...
Wind had come, the maiden came
Into depth of mirrors drawn.
Gaze to gaze - the fierce-blue scope
Has appeared once in view.
Magdalina! Magdalina!
From the desert wind is blowing
To burn fire on, anew.
Your narrow goblet, and a blizzard
Are there outside the window -
And the half of life had passed yet!
After snowstorm - the south sun lits
The scorched, burned throughout, land!
And there is the end solution
Of all torments, praises passed,
Of all snaking smiles and movements
To request - let's break the glass!
That's for purpose, that on the night-bed
You'll be tired of the passion!
That's for purpose, that the shrill yell
Of the lone violins will put out
The dark twilight of the death!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem