Turning gold, the ether grows translucent,
And between the sea and this sun quiver tongues of gold.
Everywhere golden coins gleam
among splashes of yearning.
Cliff fronts rose
In a fluttering sun-veil.
The sun settled. A cry
full of the screams of albatrosses:
"Children of the sun, once again passionless cold!
golden , ancient fortune --
the golden fleece!"
There is no gleaming golden coin.
The lights of day fade.
But everywhere together with the sun
is the blinding purple of fire.
The slope of the sky is embraced with fire...
And there the Argonauts blow the flying horn
Put on the armor
of the sun-veil!
The ancient Argonaut
summons to follow,
on a golden
"To the sun, to the sun, those who love freedom,
We shall whirl away into the blue
The ancient Argonaut summons to the sun festival,
on the world growing gold.
All the sky is rubies.
The sun-sphere has fallen asleep.
All the sky is rubies
On the mountainous heights
preparing to fly, began to beat
The earth flies away...
of the world
like a burning globe.
And, embraced with brilliance,
our winged Argo
overtakes the luminous day ,
a torch once again burning. Again it overtakes
Distance -- without end. Oats whisper,
And the heart once again waits impatiently
for the same daydreams.
Clouds are hidden
in pale, wine-gold sorrow
and, having created a fringe with her arc of fire,
the red-gold sun set...
And sacred emotion flies again
along the yellow cornfields,
whispering like the oats:
"Soul, submit: the day has ended
in the middle of a golden feast.
And on the fields of foggy bygone days
a shadow is cast.
The tired world falls into peaceful sleep,
nobody will long await the spring.
And you, do not wait either.
There is nothing... And there will be nothing...
And you will die...
The world will disappear, and God will forget it.
Why do you wait?"
Clouds are hidden
In the mirror-like flame-radiant distance
and, having created a fringe with her arc of fire
the enormous sphere, bowing, burns above the cornfield
A shadow is cast. Oats rustle,
I was walking home bent and tired,
my head down.
I discerned a far-off, cherished call
from the back of time.
I heard: "Your sorrow is passing by,
whirling away like a dream."
I looked into the distance -- a web
of gold and radiant threads was stretched
in the azure-blue
"And time rolls up like a scroll...
And everything -- is asleep...
For clear, pure tears, for spiritual happiness,
for everyday life,
my fallen son, my half-son,
I call you..."
So I stood -- happy, meek.
From the clouds of dust
above the distance of cornfields rise a golden
Breaking loose, an ear bows.
The smell of cool evening.
In the distance a fading voice
sadly summons difficult times.
It summons anxiously, indistinctly
to the place where a castle in the sky,
and puffs of gliding cloud
float eastwards above a cornfield.
A sunset striped with crimson
fades in the distance beyond the mountains.
The golden ocean crashes around us
in the drunken radiance.
And the world, burning low, feasts,
and the world glorifies the Father,
and the wind caresses, kisses.
Kisses me endlessly.
Symbolists: Belyi Top of this Page Acmeists
To Selections from Gold in Azure / Main Page Contents / To Futurists