* * *
I honor Dorian Gray and Faustus. However,
I cannot sell my soul to Deuce - no way!
Why did I listen to the gypsies? - Well, I never! -
They prophesied my death up to a day.
Donít bear it in mind, put it away,
Donít mark it in your calendar. On no account!
Or, when it comes to that, just change the day,
Lest I should wait for it and crows fly all around,
Lest wining angels should be fluttering about
And people sneer, setting up for wit.
Before too long, please keep me safe, I bid!
Now hurry up, and donít delay a bit
For they have filled my heart with fear and doubt.
And, truly, in return for immortality
I donít want much: a road, a horse, a friend...
I beg you, humbly bending down my head,
The instant you release me in the end
Donít cry for mercy and sentimentality!