At the Feast
There’s Prince Diego, falling in a love,
He dozed and he laid his head midst table’s stuff,
He lost his goblet, cast from silver’s milk,
And freed his jacket of a crimson silk.
And he is seeing the transparent stream,
And on the stream – the boat white as steam,
In which the trip, a lot of time ago,
His bride and he had had to undergo.
Space after space immediately springs
And, like two looks, burn two amazing rings;
But now sacred isles are seen in haze,
Where will resound the mysterious phrase,
And where, in wreaths of roses, at last,
They will be married by the Jesus Christ.
But at that time, the king has laid on him
The heavy look, where evil mixed with whim,
And jokers are adjusting to his heart,
The reddish pieces – flowers of blood,
And sexy bride with moderated rage,
Is kissing the impudent, lustful page.
Nikolay Stepanovich Gumilyov
Никола́й Степа́нович Гумилёв
Translation by Yevgeny Bonver