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Andrei Rublev

Андрей Рублев

It is my firm and sweet conviction,
Directed by monastic art,
This woman’s face is heaven’s depiction
To Promised One by Maker’s heart.

Her nose, like tree trunk, tall and slender,
Unfurls the arches of her brows
Above expression stern yet tender,
Like bending of a date-palm’s boughs.

Her eyes like sirins ’neath the branches,
Prophetic, sweetly seem to sing,
They deftly tell tale’s circumstances,
Disclose soul’s secrets on the wing.

Like heaven’s vault – her open forehead;
Above her curls appear like cloud;
And gentle seraphs, charming, timid,
With wings are brushing head unbowed.

And there beneath the tree, red’s smother –
Her lips are daubed with Eden’s shade,
The tint that tempted Eve our mother
To break the covenant she had made.

Andrei Rublev wrote all this for me
With brilliant brush’s artful prod,
And in this sad life’s labour’s torment
I find that I’ve been blessed by God.

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"What d' you see in my eyes, slightly sparkling, / In my look, hazed with opaque mist?" / "There I saw the sea's deepest darkness / With a big sunken beautiful ship. / / That fine ship... More glorious and braver / None had seen over deep of the sea. / Its high masts under windbreath ...

A fragment of «Tale of Kings»

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Today, I can see that your glance is especially sad, / And hands are especially thin and the hair if up fluff. / Hey, listen, as far as in Africa, down at lake Chad / Is walking a graceful Giraffe. / / He's owing that elegance, slender and languor he is, / Such beautiful patterns are sh...

The Gates of Paradise

There are no seven diamond seals to close / the eternal gates of God's great paradise / it has no tempting charms, no beckoning glow / and to the people remains unrecognized. / / a doorway in a wall long since forsaken / a mass of stones and moss and nothing more. / nearby, a beggar, ...

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 ...


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