How the chest breathes, fresh, voluminous –
Words are incapable of expressing a thing!
How in the ravines at midday loudly
Into milky froth cascade rivulets!
The ether pulses and melts with song.
In the planted field rye gathers green –
And a gentle voice is heard humming:
“You will outlive yet another spring!”
Как дышит грудь свежо и емко —
Слова не выразят ничьи!
Как по оврагам в полдень громко
На пену прядают ручьи!
В эфире песнь дрожит и тает.
На глыбе зеленеет рожь —
И голос нежный напевает:
"Еще весну переживешь!"
«I am a page for your pen. / I will take everything. I am a white page. / I am a steward of your wealth: / I will increase and return it a hundredfold. I am the country, I am black earth. / You are a ray of sun and rain's moisture. / You are Lord and Master, and I — / I am black soil ...»
«I am happy living simply: / like a clock, or a calendar. / Worldy pilgrim, thin, / wise — as any creature. To know the spirit is my beloved. To come to things — swift / as a ray of light, or a look. / To live as I write: spare — the way / God asks me — and friends do not.»
«1 Poet — from afar starts a speech. / A poet - far away starts the speech. With planets, with marks, with roundabout / Tales' hollows... between yes and nay / He even having swung from the belltower / Took out the hook... For comets' way Is poets' way. The scattered chime of purpose —...»
«2 There are the extras, the unneeded / That do not fit within the norm. / (Not counting in your dictionaries / To them the landfill is their home). There are the hollow, the pushed-down, / There are the mute — like dung, / Nail — to your silken skirt hem! / Dirt from under the whe...»