Зачем

I'm happy with the triumph broke blasphemer ,
 And no anguish , no reproach ,
 But every night I dream so clearly
 Large , night lake.

On mourning -black waves nenyufary ,
 As my thoughts , silent,
 And wake forgotten , sad charm
 Silver and white willow .

The moon lights the road bends ,
 And he sees a deserted field
 As I gasp at the severe anxiety
 And fingers racking pain.

I will remember , and something you should see ,
 As in the gloomy drama isolation:
 Sad girl , white bird
 Or a strange , tender tale .

And the new sun zableschet in fog ,
 And there are dragonflies shadows
 And proud swans ancient tales
 White will be released on stage .

But I do not remember. I am weak, wingless ,
 I looked on the night of the lake
 And hear the waves babble without power
 Fateful words of rebuke .

Wake up , and as before sure lips
 Far and alien night ,
 And so the earthly fine and rough
 Minutes of work and rest.

Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
November 1908