Dead Visions

Thy soul shall find itself alone —
Alone of all on earth — unknown
The cause — but none are near to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness — for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall then o’ershadow thee — be still
For the night, tho' clear, shall frown:
And the stars shall look not down
From their thrones, in the dark heav’n;
With light like Hope to mortals giv’n,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy withering heart shall seem
As a burning, and a ferver
Which would cling to thee forever.
— S.G. -
— (translation) —
One last time, I will look into your eyes
Tomorrow never comes, I know
Tomorrow is no more for those who beheld paradise
In the slightest glint of the sea, in the depth of these eyes
The pain I see, forever frozen
The ashes of suffering will scatter
The black ocean will devour the prey
Swallowing the passion that tears the body apart.
No more strength to wait
No more strength to believe…
Let’s drink the last glass of wine
The dreams will flow like paintings
In the theatre of shadows.
Never was the sorrow so close
Filling up space
With rustle of feeble bones.
Never before did blood
Flow back
Into the arms cut with bitterness…
I will embrace the cross at your grave,
As an old friend
I will clasp the black lace to my heart
Left unpraised
In myriads of thoughts
Bound for north.
I wish I could reach
The harbour of all fates.
I wish I could guess
Who will wake us all…
— Z. Gippius —
— (translation) —
I’m not afraid of the touch of steel
Nor of a blade’s cold sharpness
But life’s rings clutched me tight
And choke me slowly, like a snake.
But let my sorrows vanish,
I won’t open my heart to them…
For they have become so distant,
Like you, my useless love!
Let life choke me, I am not choking,
I have reached the final stage.
And if death comes, I will obediently
Follow into its sorrowless shadow:
Thus, in autumn, light and careless,
The day dies in the pale sky.
— Poe —
But 'twill leave thee, as each star
In the morning light afar
Will fly thee — and vanish:
— But its thought thou can’st not banish.
The breath of God will be still;
And the wish upon the hill
By that summer breeze unbrok’n
Shall charm thee — as a token,
And a symbol which shall be
Secrecy in thee.