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Masquerade / Маскарад

Grand masquerade, my hidden face
Among a number of the others.
Breathtaking gowns, silk and lace.
So easy to dissolve in vicious maze
Where every smile is fake throughout.

Here is a den of fools and liars
Concealing their thoughts, so vile.
Mind games compel them to conspire
So whole action turns into infernal choir
In which each voice exudes only guile.

They spin in whirl of graceful dance
Upon the blackened bones of poor victims,
Trampling dead dreams without sense
Of pity; their strong thirst becomes immense.
What's it this masquerade about?

The gorgeous masks that show stares.
Behind them brilliant actors play,
Impure souls of which can bare
Their intentions and even scare.
That hell will never pass away.

I make my way through dancing crowd,
Afraid of getting trapped meanwhile.
Innocent eyes strive not to let a doubt
Pierce in my mind and cut out
Such flawless images of their wile.

Smooth moves are actually cunning –
Hosts of the masks are fighting with no arms;
Lie, feign, deceive. It would be stunning
If they were not mentally gunning,
Doing immeasurable harms.

How come I was involved into this ball?
I'm trying to put my finger on it.
Who all these guests whose shadows crawl?
Why do they roll
In deep of their deception?

Feel someone grasps my hand, I can't resist:
Long hair and alluring eyes has captured me.
My throat likes the touches of her wrist,
Succumbing to temptation, as if mist
Obscures my senses much.

Wrong motion gives her away
And makes my minds almost clear.
I tear the mask off her in order to display
The real face. My eyes aren't able to portray
It; she's demon that used to get them blear.

The mask was just an alter ego of her own
That has been used as perfect bait.
In some way, now she is all alone,
Exposed, literally naked like a stone.
Our life is mesmerizing masquerade.

This is a Russian version of this poem

Тот маскарад, лица сокрыты,
Кружево прячет наготу.
Движенья плавны, но размыты,
А шелк сковал их красоту.

Здесь логово лжецов коварных,
Детей порока во плоти.
Натужные улыбки пряны
Под дымкой безмятежности.

Их игры разума сплочают,
Хор инфернальный стал главой
И каждый голос облачает
В ту ложь, рожденную молвой.

Они танцуют грациозно
На тех мечтах, что уж мертвы.
Желанья их столь одиозны,
Недра души, увы, пусты.

Маски показывают взоры,
Не обнажая тьму сердец.
Ведь там блестящие актеры,
Обман - стараний тех венец.

Сквозь платьев волны пробираюсь,
Боясь попасть в капкан сомнений.
И веки чистых глаз, вздымаясь,
В них искры выдают презрений.

Пассы руками вероломны,
Владельцы маск ментально бьются.
Кругом уловки, лица томны,
И паутины фальши вьются.

Как я попал на этот бал?
Забытия вуаль укрыла.
Веру в людей я потерял -
Гостей улыбки насквозь лживы.

Я ощущаю чью-то руку,
Схватившую мою небрежно.
Запах духов резвеял скуку,
Объятье взгляда неизбежно.

Длинные пряди сотрясая,
Она флюиды источала.
Запястьем трепетно касаясь,
Пламень души моей украла.

Одно неверное движенье
Разоблачило самозванку.
Чары, что были вдохновеньем,
Она наслала как приманку.

Сорвав с нее порока маску,
В оцепенении обомлел.
Прикосновенья, губ ту ласку
Мне демон даровать посмел.

Теперь она обличена
И чувствует всю боль утрат,
Вечно страдать обречена.
Вся наша жизнь - лишь маскарад.
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Submitted on July 27, 2014

2:43 min read

Den Khaustov Claim this poet

creative and elaborate person with avalanche of tangled thoughts roaming in the head that can unexpectedly align and pour out on a paper, forming a new piece of art more…

All Den Khaustov poems | Den Khaustov Books

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