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Saints of the Aquarius Age

He erected his temple on the height,
A snow-covered, multi-towered shrine,
That he could pray at the break of dawn
To the changing, heavenly light.

And his God appeared before him,
Infinitely kindred and alien —
Now sad, now gentle, now stern,
Different with every new time.

Asked for nothing, wishing no lies.
Departed and returned again —
A crystal, warm with alternate fires
Amid motionless luminaries.

And the madman, shedding his tears,
Worshipped the heavenly fires,
Then people gathered beneath
To look at the intangible sanctuary.

And laughing, they felt cooler —
“There is no soul in momentary gods,
Here we have a prince and the ruler
Made of heavy eternal stones.”

But the madman could not explain
The gentle dream of his deity —
Its words of snow, softly sung,
Its seal of celestial ore.

N. Gumilyov. Equirhythmic translation by Em Rostverg