I flee from myself, from the torment and fatigue,
From the screaming, ever-watching towns.
And alone I will brave the white fern of dreams;
I abandon everyone and desert everything,
For I want to be nothing a while.
Fatigued by my ignorance,
Martyred by my vanity,
I flee from myself in the white fern of dreams.
And there, in dreams the tender tigers
Will kiss my parchment lips,
And magnificent leopards will peel off their skins,
And kindly will give them to me:
— Here, take!
I’ll take and forget about all in the world,
I’ll become a dream, a sweet, phantasmagoric dream.
How good it is that I’m — a dream.
How bad, that when I wake
The fern that once was white will now be green.
Перекладач: Andriy M. Freishyn-Chirovsky
Оригінал: Я тікаю від себе, від муки і втоми… (ще не додано)