Bunin, "Зеркало"

A work ("Mirror") by this Russian man of letters.  You can read the original here.

As wintry day grows dim, as calm shades touch   
Descending on our souls, reflections cross 
Into a mirror darkened now and lost:  
Such perhaps is death.  Yes, perhaps, just such. 

Alone in tomb-like murk, a red flame sways
From my cigar, a wondrous jewel bright;  
My fire once doused, a trace will drift away –
A fragrant, slender fume to endless night.

Who set this fire ablaze?  Whose fingers dear, 
Whose sparkling rings cascaded along the keys? 
Both sadness fills my soul, and ecstasy, 
Because this tomb-like murk I do not fear.

Comments

[Мурат]

Хади, спасибо! С большим удовольствием познакомился с этим прекрасным стихотворением Бунина.

[deeblog]

И спасибо тебе, Мурат, за то, что ты мой блог с таким удовольствием читаешь! С новым годом и большой привет из Баку!