Избранное. Поэзия. Драматургия. Максимилиан Гюбрис

      Truth: is that in the sudden thought,

      That life goes earthly by?

      I rather dream that poesy

      Is magnetism attracts tomorrow’s light.

                                    1.

      A strangest ghost a witness of the me, —

      Prophetic, – from the spheres of deadly peace

      Arose right front of my spontaneous gaze; —

      The things 'bout passed war were in his words;

      «How shall we bury it?» – he’ve asked, and I

      Felt in the certain pause, and I saw

      The vision of unquiet macrocosm.

      «How shall we bury it? Should be there tomb?

      Should be that sad? – I read your thinker mood; —

      Cause it is, firstly, sad to realize

      What sort of groan it brings to resolute

      Its memory to-come.» – «Thought to foregone.» —

      «That’s it: we’ve got to bury it. Although,

      The joy of making it, deliberate joy,

      Like common ease, could morally confuse

      That half of world of citizens, whose pride

      Relates to all the dear facts of noble loss; —

      Th’unsatisfied dramaticism oppose

      To the unseriousity frivolous,

      And that’s… to-war?“ – „Suppose, to count on both

      Effects will do the whole of worldly truth…» —

      «Like in the time of gladiators’ youth?» —

      «Oh, no!» – «Although ’twas the performance

      Of the pra-ethos of no-foe. Their battles,

      Staged, were to express quite certain morals:

      Rome used to give to History a chance

      To rehabilitate in looser a victor.» —

      «But that is rather to celebrity —

      Not to the all-repose – of War!» – «Time’s gone?» —

      «Ukrain you’ve mentioned, the modernity

      Of «public claw» by that?» – «What we don’t want.» —

      And, as I stayed quite dumb; – he: – «Not we want

      To think the War; we bury it. Our war

      Is over, there’s no other war.» – «At all?» —

      «For you to get: the War is not discrete; —

      Its being is of the matters different?

      Me-think, its constitution is permanent.

      And what we bury here had its proud end.» —

      Well, «Yes» I said. – «So, what we’ve meant,

      That must be like, what foe thinks as friend,

      Cause, not a foe any more, refused

      He’ve been to bear the woe.» – «And what is it?» —

      «Compare to th’ ended, «twill have no end.» – «Weird…» —

      «Yes, «tmust be like what… CAn be repeated,

      Each time with freer memory replayed.» —

      «GOOD memory?…» – «Thought smiles, well-comprehend!

      New memory of The War-Burial event.» —

      «If that… mysterious festivity

      Like Carny greatly-mad supposed to be,

      Then only thought «bout it is of the…

      Mystery,…the secret there,…very thing

      Within the Theme, – you understand?“ – „Indeed

      That must inherit the Competity

      As part of freeing Act, and all the Art,

      All sort of, suiting to fair Ritual…» —

      «Undoubtedly. And, so, the question still:

      What is that main… intrigue, the Carny’s riddle,

      Point of the Mystery? As you can see,

      Just «on the usual wing», like that in Spain58,

      With’t secret motive, it will be quite vain, —

      I mean, vain for the Whole-War’s burial theme.» —

      «If you can tell me just one thing», – he said, —

      Though it was shining our words between:

      Please, can we ever tell, on thousand percent,

      On newer way of thought, who is «the friend»

      And who’s foe-nO-more… of the End», you know?» —

      «No. We can’t tell this… from the start, at least.» —

      «Oh, thinker’s bliss! The question th’answer is.

      That’s first of secrets – who for whom there is.» —

      His face expressed quite a unique grimace.

      And like that would‘ve been the Light bless us

      To play a conversation more like fun,

      The irony in words has come, and things.

      «Your Fonomore!» – I laughed, – child of the dreams,

      Exclusively created son by clever word

      Of lingua-hooligan, done just like this!

      Out of your ghostly head!“ – „Feast jealous?

      Zealous dead?“ – „Fantastic personage’s that!

      To imagine, he’s out of the dark;

      Miraculous cloak all covers him; —

      Surrounded by others, harlequins

      And fools, and many a beings unseen,

      He moves like psychedelic king, and hymns…» —

      «The harmless See of Sin… But listen; see…» —

      Ghost looked at me, – «those funny fools you mean; —

      What are «the fools»? Are they as same, as him?

      Or they appeared all from gnostic womb

      Of the Unfathomable Lot’s magazine,

      With very news of that the