A.Blok, Humiliation - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

Humiliation
by Alexander Blok

Through the naked black boughs in window
I see yellow winter sunset.
(Maybe in such a time the convicted
Men are carried to penalty death) .

Red is upholstery of old couchs,
Curtains are faded and dusty on window....
In this room glasses ring so noisy
Of a sharper, a student, an officer.

And this magazine with naked pictures
Hardly was touched by hand of a man...
The dirty call button was pressed, and surely,
By the hand of the raskal, as yet...

Hush! You hear the ring of spurs now
Over the soft carpets, muffled by door,
The laugh also... Is this the house?
Real house? And really love?

Am I glad? or not glad with this meeting?
Why are you so pale in your face?
Why the cold and great sunset beating
On your naked and white shoulders?

Only lips with a blood clotted hardly
I see on the golden icon of face.
(Is THAT we called the real love rather?)
In the crazy line we'd broken space.

In the yellow, great winter sunset
There the bed sank (so fluffy) as yet...
It hard even breathe of embraces,
But you whistle again and again...

It is not joyful - your whistle, death like...
Hush! Again I hear the murmur of spurs...
As a satisfied snake, the dress train crawled
Down from the armchairs to floor...

You are brave! Let's be the more fearless!
I'm not your bridegroom, husband, friend!
Let you pierce heart, the yeasterday's angel,
With your french heel, so sharp and so bad!

6 dec 1911