To The Poet

In different clearness of rays, In addling amalgam of visions We always live in world’s things’ reign With its triad of space division. And spreading borders of this life, Or multiplying forms by fable, To hide your I from not-I’s eyes You will be never-never able. This power’s your leading star, It has your God and nature’s law, And before it, it’s pale and far – The Art, belittling things’ great role. You can not flee from slaving reign To look for charms of airy smears, The deepness is not verse’s main, But just a puzzle which it bears. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So, love the clearness and rays, In the aroma – their creation, And cut bright bowls for the grace And always integral receptions.