Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/110

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Valery Brusov


Que tes mains soient bénies, car elles sont impures.

Charles Baudelaire.

The shining of your golden eyes I bless!
That broke my dark delirium with light.

The smile that wavers on your lips I bless!
It kindled me like wine, it rent my night.

The poison in your kisses hid, I bless!
All thoughts, all dreams are poisoned by your kiss.

The scythe that sings in your embrace I bless!
All my past years you have mown down with this.

The fire of your awful love I bless!
I wrapped its flame about me joyfully.

The darkness of your spirit, lo, I bless!
For that its wings were outstretched over me.

Blessed all you gave, blessed what your soul denies:
I bless you for the grief, the dread, the pain;

That after you I strove toward Paradise;
That here without its gates, I stand in vain.