Lovers

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Their souls' love had been born beside the sea,
In sacred groves of virginal naiads,
Whose songs, arguing with the play of wind,
With strings, ring joyfully, eternally.

Great oracle... the majesty of man
Has never been more strange and more severe,
The closed lips and the calm peer
And on the curls, the blood-colored headband.

When fog arose, the steppes of water over,
Great oracle performed the holy rites,
And dance of supple, quivering naiads
Wound in a pearly chain along the shore.

To one midst them, more charming than a tale,
Great oracle performed the most respect.
He did forget, that majesty attracts,
That red headband will put under a spell.

And stars were glimmering before sunrise,
When the great oracle forgot the vow,
Her lovely lips did not tell to him "no,"
And he was not rejected by her eyes.

And from the darkness of the holy grove,
Loyal to the branding curse, they both went there
Where from the hearts the might did disappear,
And where their hearts do live with only love.

By Nikolai Gumilev
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
http://geocities.ws/ilya_shambat2005/