Porcelain Bell

I believed, I pondered, at last a light did gleam,
Yet the Maker who shaped me surrendered me to a dream.
I was sold! No longer God's - the seller turned away,
And the buyer stood watching, amused at my decay.

A mountain of Yesterday thunders after my soul,
While Tomorrow’s abyss waits ahead, dark and cold.
I go… but I know that one day the mountain must fall,
And then I will tumble, lost in the endless thrall.
My path is futile - of that I am sure.

Should I sway all the masses, command them by iron will,
If inspiration descends and my verses stand still,
If I hold the secrets - a poet, a conjurer’s guise,
Master of worlds - then the greater will be my demise.

I dreamed that my heart felt no sorrow, no pain,
A porcelain bell in yellow Cathay, serene in the rain,
Hung from a bright painted pagoda in delicate hue,
Ringing gently, taunting the cranes flying through.

A quiet young woman in crimson silk’s tender flow,
Embroidered with dragons and wasps in a golden glow,
Sat with her legs folded, no dreams in her tranquil gaze,
Listening intently to the bell’s fragile, distant phrase.

Translation of the poem «I believed, I thought» («Я верил, я думал») by Nikolay Gumilev (1912)

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You can listen to my version of the song via the link:
https://disk.yandex.ru/d/CtCLZ-gWpyrR8A