By Yasen Vedrin
(Freezing Point)
To a ball I was asked by old Vanity:
"Hey, you cheerful, bright charmer! Come near!
Come and dance with the elite of humanity,
With no weight of human sorrow or fear!
Look, the cognac is festively gleaming
In this glass made of delicate crystal...
How many others are waiting and dreaming
For my invitation to cross this threshold...
I chose you! For your mind is so splendid!
With your lyre, you write with such ease!
On the crest of the wave, Yasen, blended,
This prestige will be yours, if you please.
Here a courtly, grand lady is glancing,
There a famous professor observes.
Drink the cognac, while we are advancing —
Blessed poet with Vanity's nerves...
I am tired of worldly, prose thinking.
With your wonderful verses, praise me today!
Give the most fiery rose without blinking
To this brothel of mine, on display!
Courtesan next to virgin patrician —
No plot could be more captivating.
Look at me with deep eyes, your ambition!
Possess me in rhymes, escalating!..."
I was cast out... I refused to obey.
Vanity traded me for a snob's name.
And I went to the slush, far away —
Where sadness rings out just the same.
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