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Lyudmila Purgina

Rookie - 466 Points (Russian Federation)

M.Lermontov,15 july 1830 - translation (rus.)


Why did I leave the circle, though unshaped,
Of relatives? All was so warm in-there,
All were the friends and mentors, and my life
Was full of childish dreams inside.
And horrors were the play for soul,
My gain was fly to skies, to clouds!
And ready I was all to kiss in lips,
Without doubt of a snake in this.

The other people I entered to commune,
I learned them much, the friend's lie, sell-out, too.
I've become suspicious, and one day
I lost the talisman of a soul's nonchalance.
And nobody can greet with a word:
I'm friend to you! - The answer'll be a groan
From breast, and a reproach bad.
I'm got withdrawn of greetings that.

Ah, I was loving, when I was happy, yes,
When only from love I bursted into tears.
But having filled with woe all this breast,
How, tell me please, how could I love, at least?
I'm feared, while embracing a virgin,
I have a cup of poison - love instead,
And fill with it my living soul,
Show heart as the altar without fire then.

But I'm better, than they see outside,
They can't read in my face a feel;
What they are rumouring about... hush!
If I knew, how could I come through this.
There's a fire in myself against,
But not the fire of the anger, true,
Nor vengeance, not scorn, as yet,
But... why they tried to poison childhood?

The crooked bow, having torn its string,
Rattles loud - but will not be straight;
To overcome their chains, I made, in real,
The last attempt with rising head;
So... now I'm living sad
And miserable far, without friends,
Without hopes, thoughts and powers, to say,
And paler than a beam of moon, that skates
Along the wall through gap without sense.

Submitted: Sunday, August 10, 2014

Topic of this poem: philosophy


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