Black Sun (1908)
Life is frittered away in anguish and shock,
Its way unbound.
Each moment, like a step towards the chopping block,
Makes the chest pound.
The brighter the day, the darker the strife,
The duller the hour.
As in the past, the minute tells lie after lie
O’er and o’er.
My home, my abode is the peopleless vast
of earthly fields,
Where my rebellious soul is aghast
And weeps like a child.
In the moon’s hour, like a raven on a grave,
I go wan.
Having seen through life’s deceit, I anticipate
Source: World Art. Photo and translation by the Russian Reader