Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/151

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The cup of autumnal poison We pressed to our lips. By the serpentine garden path Autumn had led us To crepuscular lilies Upon the pale, sand-humbled pond. And over the lilied waters and in the roses of evening, We loved, more superstitiously. And through the dark night, On the languorous bed, At the feet of my love, I loved death anew. The minutes rang tinkling like crystals At the brink of an autumn grave: Autumn and Death drunkenly clinked their glasses. I pressed my thirsty lips To the feet the ikon-lamp burnished, I drank the cup of love. Burned by the fires of sins, Stretched on the cross of lusts, Shamed, being needlessly faithless, I drank the cup of love. In the hour of ineffable dalliance I sensed the whisper Of autumn pain, of autumn passion. And kisses like keen needles Burned and pierced, Weaving a wreath of thorns.