Sixth Sense
Wholly in love with our wine;
The goodness of bread from the oven;
The woman, who’s granted to us
After long-torment; we take our pleasure.
But what can we do with a rose-red dawn,
A sky above drowned with cold,
Where there’s silence and unearthly quiet,
What to do with immortal verse?
Not eat them, or drink, or kiss.
The unstoppable instant goes by;
We wring our hands, but again
All’s condemned to go past; go by.
As a boy, forgetting his games,
Will watch girls bathe in the river,
Knowing nothing of love,
Yet tormented by a mysterious fever;
As once, in its bursting pupa,
Conscious of impotence,
On its back, the damp creature,
Felt its wings, still unformed as yet;
So, age after age — How long, O Lord, how long? —
The spirit cries out under the knife
Of nature and art, exhausts the flesh,
To give birth to a sixth sense.
Перевод стихотворения Николая Гумилёва «Шестое чувство» на английский язык.