È âîò ïî÷òè ïðèøëè –
Óæå ñïåøèò íàâñòðå÷ó
Ïîñëåäíèé ïîâîðîò ïóòè –
Èëè óñëîâíî âå÷íîñòü.
Øàã ñòðàõîì çàòðóäíåí,
À âñå æ áðåäåì óñòàëî –
Äî ãîðîäîâ òàê äàëåêî –
Ëåñ ìåðòâûõ æäåò ñíà÷àëà.
Âåðíóòüñÿ áû, íî êàê?
Çàêðûò îáðàòíûé õîä –
Âçìåòíóëà âå÷íîñòü áåëûé ôëàã –
Ó êàæäûõ âðàò Ãîñïîäü.
Our journey had advanced —
Our feet were almost come
To that odd Fork in Being's Road —
Eternity — by Term —
Our pace took sudden awe —
Our feet — reluctant — led —
Before — were Cities — but Between —
The Forest of the Dead —
Retreat — was out of Hope —
Behind — a Sealed Route —
Eternity's White Flag — Before —
And God — at every Gate —