And neither stanzas, nor the stars
Will save me from Nemesis
For, every time I toiled
O’er stubborn lines,
I sought o’er forehead
Stars - not eyes
For, having taken you as king,
My lovely Eros, every time
I did it how I please
For, nightly, in a solemn fog,
I sought from soft and rosy lips
The rhymes – not kiss
For, to the cruelest judge
I looked like snow,
For, in my breast I held below -
Apotheosis!
For, having faced the rising East,
I sought on forehead
Dawns – not roses!
20 May 1920
vip/ 6 Oct 2013
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И не спасут ни стансы, ни созвездья