A Reader of Books
As a reader of books, I yearned to come across
My quite paradise in obedient consciousness.
I loved them all, those strange expanses,
Where there are neither hopes nor memories.
To swim unflaggingly the streams of lines,
To enter eagerly a channel’s chapters
Watching the waves foam on its flood,
And listening to the swell of its incoming tide!
But at evening . . . Oh, how dreadful it is,
Night shadows behind cupboard and icon-case,
And the pendulum, frozen, like the moon
Shining above the gleaming fen!
My quite paradise in obedient consciousness.
I loved them all, those strange expanses,
Where there are neither hopes nor memories.
To swim unflaggingly the streams of lines,
To enter eagerly a channel’s chapters
Watching the waves foam on its flood,
And listening to the swell of its incoming tide!
But at evening . . . Oh, how dreadful it is,
Night shadows behind cupboard and icon-case,
And the pendulum, frozen, like the moon
Shining above the gleaming fen!
Перевод стихотворения Николая Гумилёва «Читатель книг» на английский язык.