
Blok listed Shakespeare among his favourite poets, and Hamlet was his favourite play. He wrote nine poems about it. This is his last.
I’m Hamlet, and my blood grows cold
When meshing of deceit is weaving,
And in my heart is first love’s hold
Alive – to one alone it’s cleaving.
Ophelia, distant frigid hand
Of life at you is madly grabbing,
And I, the Prince, in native land
Succumb to poisoned épée’s stabbing.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Я – Гамлет. Холодеет кровь,
Когда плетет коварство сети,
И в сердце – первая любовь
Жива – к единственной на свете.
Тебя, Офелию мою,
Увел далёко жизни холод,
И гибну, принц, в родном краю
Клинком отравленным заколот.
Translation by Rupert Moreton