Рукописи [Rukopisi] [English translation]

Now is the time of fire,

Don't let me in here.

I am like a rusty ascetic,

Who has not written poetry

For three thousand years,

But the one invisible is waiting

Careful like a cat

Touching milk.

My midnight twin -

He bent over the lamp,

And in my lines,

And in my veins,

The insinuating beast walks.

I keep under my ribs

This sacrifice to the fire,

Until the door closed.

The manuscripts are burning

No one told you, but they really burn,

And don't you dare one step back,

Oh, my friends, and oh, my enemies, how beautiful ...

Cut the veins with a pen,

Pouring silver ink -

Are the manuscripts not burning?

They still burn well,

You should have seen this hell!

The manuscripts are burning, yes my love

Oh they burn so gloriously,

Like a ripe pomegranate bursting,

Oh my friends, and oh, my enemies

How beautiful they burn.

The manuscripts are burning,

No one told you, but they really burn,

And don't you dare one step back,

Oh, my friends, and oh, my enemies, how beautifully they burn!

The manuscripts are burning, yes my love,

Oh, they burn so gloriously,

Like a ripe pomegranate bursting,

Oh my friends, and oh, my enemies

How beautiful they burn.