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!"
«for Sergei Krechetov A thin howl from the dogs on guard. / Tonight still camped in the same place, / no-good vagabond orphans, we are / warming our hands at the bonfire. A sullen look beneath the brows / from empty nights of far-fetched sleep. / The smoke is full of ruby floaters / whi...»
«There was a house here. They recently dismantled / the upstairs for firewood, leaving just the rough / lower stonework structure. I go there / often of an evening to relax. The open sky / and green trees in the little courtyard / rise up so fresh from all that's fallen, / and there's the...»
«If you have eyes — through day you'll see a night / the rays from that inflaming disk won't reach. / A pair of swallows fighting to escape / flap at the window, where they feebly cheep. But that transparent yet unyielding sheet / was never cut by wings, however sharp; / no darting that ...»
«Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita Me, me, me. What a preposterous word! / Can that man there really be me? / Did Mama really love this face, / dull yellow with greying edges / like an ancient know-it-all snake? Can the boy who danced in summer / at the Ostбnkino country-house balls / ...»