Konstantin Balmont

When I near the other man strait face to face,
I know that something is common in us,
And, strained and attentive, I look for its trace
In there where a deep bottom lasts.

I see there a lot of the strangled words’ frames,
And slaughters made out in an impious mute,
And gulfs, and landslips, and black clouds, and flames,
And madness of heart for more food.

I see and remember and feel self insane,
I know from where thunders usually blast,
And if I am looking in eyes of a man,
He’d suddenly close his eyes.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2003