Nikolay Gumilev

May be, in my previous a-being,
I’ve cut the throats of my Mom and Dad,
If in this one – Lord of all the living! --
I  have been doomed to suffering like that.

If I call for dogs of mine, aloud,   
Or just try my own horse to see,
Not obeying  all my signs and shouts, 
They would promptly run away from me.

If I come to the enchanting foam
Of my native and well-known sea,
Then the sea would blacken from the woe
And fast go back, away from me.  

My day looks like looks a man extinguished,         
And my work – like somebody’s else strife, 
Mine – is only pine of undistinguished,
Non-platonic and unworthy love.

Let the deathly languor be in action,  
I’ll not stop to wait the time, when  
In my future version of creation,
I’ll become a gallant knight again.    


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, May, 2000
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, December, 2000