Deeblog

A work ("The thirst for fame") from the greatest of all Russian poets.  The original can be found here.

While still enthralled in love and bliss,
Upon my knees in wordless kiss,
Before that face thoughts swore was mine,
Do know, my love, for fame I pine.
Do know that I, still young, must toil
In search of poet’s timeless soil:
Against storm’s length, fatigue ignores
The distant hum of praise and bores.

Invective can’t incite alarm,
As tedious glances inflict their harm,
And your soft hand my head shakes soft:
“Do love and bliss still sail aloft?
“Will you love others just as me?
“Will our love bask eternally?”
You whisper to my silent shame,
On pleasure gorged, I come to frame
A future day of separate fate
Where tears and pain shall us await.

Betrayal, gossip, all my cause,
And all has crumbled, and here I pause
And stand, a desert nomad struck
By lightning, then by darkest luck!
But now new thirst in me appears:
It’s fame I want, so that your ears
May bear my name at every hour,
Your prayers rise amidst my power,
And all shall sound in loudest tones
Of me.  And when your silence moans
In my true voice, you’ll think of fast
Our garden, night, and loving last.