О, моята любов към теб е слонче,
родено в европейски зоопарк,
което стъпва с ходила от вата
по пода в кабинета на директора.

Не му предлагай кифлички виенски
и зелеви кочани не предлагай —
то може само резен мандаринов
да хапне или някое бонбонче.

И не плачи, че в тясната си клетка
ще служи на тълпата за посмешище,
и разни продавачи ще му духат
цигарен дим пред кискащи се фльорци.

Недей да мислиш, че ще дойде време,
когато ще порасне то, и гневно
стената ще разкърти и ще хукне
из улиците с рев да мачка всичко.

Не, по-добре, ако ти се присъни
то като слона Анибалов — в броня
от мед блестяща и с пера от щраус —
на път към разтреперания Рим.

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A portrait of a man

His eyes are lightless underground lakes, / Abandoned castles of the ancient kings. / Marked with the sign of the eternal shame / Of that, the Other One, he never speaks. / The deepest wound, his mouth, dark and purple, / Made with a blade borne of the deadly poison; / And it is sad and ...

I`m dreaming that both of us dead…

I'm dreaming that both of us dead. / We're lying - so peaceful for ever. / Two white heavy coffins of lead / Put down together. / / And when did we say that "enough"? / What for then and what means the trying? / But strange that's not aching my heart, / My heart is not crying. / ...

Unperturbed and indifferent sun contemplated the planet…

Unperturbed and indifferent sun contemplated the planet / There all was infested with terror and eaten by rot, / There rocks in the distance appeared a huge shaggy dog, / There black boiling copper spewed out collapsing volcanoes. / Was the night of the world. / / Unexpectedly rolled i...

Their souls` love had been born beside the sea…

Their souls' love had been born beside the sea, / In sacred groves of virginal naiads, / Whose songs, arguing with the play of wind, / With strings, ring joyfully, eternally. / / Great oracle... the majesty of man / Has never been more strange and more severe, / The closed lips and th...

The Magic Violin

Pretty boy, / you are so merry / and your smile's - so light, so sunny. / Don't you ask me for this passion / that is poison to the worlds. / You don't know, don't know how dreadful / is this Magic Violin, sonny, / And how gloomy is the horror / of the one who strikes the ...


He that has been burried / Hears a glorious chime, / Smells the whitest lilies / In his dream beyond time. / / He that in his grave lies / Sees an endless light / As the wings of Seraphs / Shed their snow-flakes bright. / / You are on your death-bed / And your hands are cold....