Men’s thoughts and deeds will pass like dreams,
The heroes soon effaced,
The mausoleums turn to dust,
All things end up erased.
The wisdom, justice, faith and love
By some Unknown Hand,
Like needless words on someone's slate,
Will soon be swept off land.
Afar from Earth, forlorn and dumb,
Yet other words would rise
Under the same old magic Hand
That prophesizes Light.
And other Life would see the world,
Resembling not our face,
But just like ours will melt away
Without a single trace.
And we are helpless to predict
New image that will live --
That star will carry nothing of
the things that we believe.
And yet one thing will re-appear
Which now we call “caprice” --
The anguish for ethereal,
The longing for some peace.
Aversion to the status quo,
The premonition light,
And thirst for sanctities we lack
Will still entice the sight.
Whatever creatures come to live,
Whatever mind would spark,
They’d rush from ashes to their dreams
As we did in our dark.
Therefore immortals are not they
Who excel in their plot,
Who fill the chest with empty tales
That trick the mob a lot,
But they who see amid the dust
Eternal shinning goal,
Who've built through suffering and pain
A mirage in their soul.
1887/2009
(Translated by VP)
*****
Николай Минский
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