All things will die – your mother, days of youth,
The wife betrays and friends desert you.
Yet you should seek another truth,
Gazing into a cold and polar splendour.
Take your boat and sail to a distant pole
In walls of ice - and quietly forget
How people loved, and grieved, and fought…
And think no more of passions of their lot.
And discipline your soul to fits of cold,
So that you stay uncaring down here
When rays, unusual and bold,
Start dashing from the outer sphere.
1909/2019
* * *
Всё на земле умрет — и мать, и младость
25/10/19
Aleksandr Blok - All things will die -
© Copyright: Виктор Постников, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119102409579
Свидетельство о публикации №119102409579
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