To the Young Poet

Oh, my pale youth with your look full of fire,
Now, I give you my three sacred gnomes:
First, do not live in the everyday mire,
Just in the future, bards build their domes.

Second, don't give to the people your fervor,
But fell in love with yourself, and -- in whole,
Third, worship Art as your Lord, as your Savor,
Worship without discretion and goal.

Oh, my pale youth with your look of confusion!
If you accept my three rules know how,
Silent, I'll fell, as a knight, with conclusion,
That, after me, a new bard goes now.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September, 2000