For long the cards were lying, one after another,
Therefore I was in vain becoming tipsy afterwards.
The cold stars of march like being in great trouble
Were going pale, one after one, outdoors.
In cold brainstorm, as in craziness, exited,
I felt this gambling game to be the only dream.
‘All bank I’ll cover! ‘ – cried I to the last time.
My card’s then killed, and time was to defeat.
I’d come outdoors. The dawn shades so delicious
Were wandering all over the tender snow.
I can’t help recollect, how did I fall to knees there
With pressing gold cross to lips and swear on:
‘To get eventually free and fair like a starry sky,
To grasp your heavy stick, the Sister Poverty,
To rove long by roads as a beggar and to ask
For bread with help of those gold cross and Deity! ‘
The moment over.. Everyone had ceased the noise
And risen from the places, when I entered hall
In bellicose mood, in insane senseless pose,
I laid in silence on the card my gold cross.
Nikolay Stepanovich Gumilyov
Никола́й Степа́нович Гумилёв
Translation by Lyudmila Purgina