I'm kindling the candle to cherish the spark
Until it blooms into flame.
I know, that you're still afraid of the dark,
That's why you have called my name.
I came. Here I am, blessed by blindness of Night
And vague as the slumbering thought.
Be keen on beginning-to-see-the-light,
The blossom of which I brought!..
I brought you the scarlet blossom of blaze,
As hot as the throbbing sore.
It scents of the sense, it scents of the grace,
Of ardor, with which I adore.
It seems like a wound, bleeding with glow,
The wound in the flesh of the gloom...
You're startled by Magic of mine, I know:
That's why you are leaving the room.
Dive into the yard from the height of the porch,
Inhale the nocturnal quiet!..
I'll kindle the moon as the wondrous torch
To let you see the light.
J U L I A M A M O C H E VA