Записки Безымянного [поэзия] | страница 6

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For he is child of the sun,

For he has travelled his life's road

In search of universal God,

And he's already seen a lot,

Still being smallest spark of God,

Still feeling crawlings of sensation

That he is one of His creation.

Oh, does it matter who he is ?

He has to pay his own fees

To burn inside this smallest spark

And free the past out of dark.

The name was given once again ...

Is it too old to live on then ?

It has some power of the steep -

And part of it I will then keep.

The second part means nothing now,

For it reminds me of the Row,

And as suggested by the God

This part I'll throw on passed road.

What does it mean - the change of name ?

Inside myself I'm still the same.

And I was free to create name

That may stand up against fame,

It is both real and both not,

For I'm but smallest spark of God,

In second name I'm long too plunged -

It is untouched, first is changed.

When time will come to pay my fee,

Those blessed with Word will join me.

This word will grow like eucaliptus -

And in your lifes it'll be Post Scriptus.

Феникс

It is the dream of my origin,

For in the dreams I am still virgin,

And still I'm fighting with my sleep,

But hesitate - that's why I weep.

My worthless dreams I must deny,

But still afraid to make the try,

For who am I now to decide

What dream is wrong, what dream is right ?

My purest dream is that of bird -

It is the symbol of the world

Which always change and born anew,

This bird I am, like it I flew.

For like a phoenix I reborn ...

My wings may melt, my wings may worn,

But I'm constantly born anew,

I'm many-faced in others view.

I am restored in the fire,

The fire's cold, that fire's dire,

It forges one's wings to make him flyer ...

It is a grand sight to admire.

From former ego it deprives,

And, as its victim slowly dies,

His flesh begins to grow anew ...

And still survivors are so few.

I'm passing through this coldest hell,

My burning skin is all I smell,

My former past will once unfold ...

It is a strange sight to behold.

For I am one without name,

I've lost my past, rejected fame,

The Earth will never be my home …

I will be free the time I'm gone.

All other worlds awaiting me ...

I will awake, I shall break free,

Inside myself I'm searching deeper -

Such is the fate of the Unsleeper.

No one can help me on my path,

I'm always self, I'm never "us",

Through divine hell I'm passing by

To forge the wings for final flight.

The time will come, I will reborn,

My former skin myself I'll torn,

Reborn anew, becoming flyer -

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