Faith in Bulgarian po ruskii en Francais in German

Here am I - breathing,
and writing my poetry
(my best to it giving).
Life and I glower
across at each other
and with it I struggle
with all my power.

Life and I quarrel,
but don't draw the moral
that I despise it.
No, just the opposite!
Though I should perish,
life with its brutal
claws of steel
still would I cherish,
still would I cherish!

Suppose round my neck they tie fast
the rope
and they ask:
"Would you like one more hour to live?"
I would instantly cry:
Come, quickly untie
the rope, you devils!"
For Life there is nothing
I would not dare.
I would fly
a prototype plane in the sky,
climb into a roaring
rocket, exploring
in space

Still would I feel
a joyous thrill
at the blue sky.
Still would I feel
a joyous thrill
to be alive,
to go on living.

But look, suppose
you took - how much? -
a single grain
from this my faith,
then would I rage,
I would rage from pain
like a panther
pierced to the heart.

For what of me
would there remain?
After the theft
I'd be distraught.
To put it plainly
and more directly -
after the theft
I would be nought.

Maybe you wish
you could erase
my faith
my faith
in happy days,
my faith
that tomorrow
life will be finer,
life will be wiser?

Pray, how will you smash it?
With bullets?
No! That is useless!
Stop! It's not worth it!

My faith has strong armour
in my sturdy breast
and bullets able to shatter
my faith
do not exist,
do not exist!

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