The Word
On that day of old, when God inclined
his face over the new world,
then the Word would stop the sun,
the Word would destroy towns.
And the eagle did not flap its wings,
the stars huddled up to the moon in horror,
when the Word — like a roseate flame —
sailed in heaven's height.
And there were numbers for lowly life
like domestic and yoked cattle,
because an intelligent number
conveys all shades of meaning.
A grey-haired patriarch who had brought
both good and evil under his sway
daring not to turn to sound,
traced a number in the sand with his cane.
But we forgot that in the trials and tribulations
of this world only the Word is radiant,
and in the Gospel according to St John
it is said that the Word is God.
It is we who have imposed on it
the meagre limits of nature,
and like bees in a deserted hive
dead words smell bad.
Перевод стихотворения Николая Гумилёва «Слово» на английский язык.