Mikhail Kuzmin

He was born painlessly, in bless,
But we are born in awful torments,
Yet, even heavens will be stressed,
When heard the song that now floats.

Not a sweet voice, but fierce cries
Will cut the womb, so dark and heavy:  
The sightless embryo denies
His coffin-like ways for behavior. 

The Bible’s eastern star did not
Jet into skies in dazzling flare – 
But its bright image was absorbed
By a transmuted look, forever.

Wake up, blest spirits, and arise!
We’re the reserved and bare heathens …   
Pulling their hats over their eyes,
They go – the unknown wizards.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, November, 2000