Grass was pushing through earth by the graves, we’ve forgot.
We’ve forgot yesterday… We’ve forgot every word…
Only silence around us sings…
Whether You’re not alive? Whether You’re not a flash
Due this death of them gone, of them burned to the ash’s?
Whether your own heart is not spring?
Only here to breath by these graves and these stones,
Where composed I once those beautiful songs
Of the meeting that’s waiting for us…
Where at first into my waxen-colorless face
You had breathed with fresh air of the distant life’s grace,
Pushing through as the graveyard’s green grass…
С. Соловьеву
У забытых могил пробивалась трава.
Мы забыли вчера…И забыли слова…
И настала кругом тишина…
Этой смертью отшедших, сгоревших дотла,
Разве Ты не жива? Разве Ты не светла?
Разве сердце Твое - не весна?
Только здесь и дышать, у подножья могил,
Где когда-то я нежные песни сложил
О свиданьи, быть может, с Тобой.
Где впервые в мои восковые черты
Отдаленною жизнью повеяла Ты,
Пробиваясь могильной травой.
«Pretty boy, / you are so merry / and your smile's — so light, so sunny. / Don't you ask me for this passion / that is poison to the worlds. / You don't know, don't know how dreadful / is this Magic Violin, sonny, / And how gloomy is the horror / of the one who strikes the cords. H...»
«I was given a body – what to do with it now, / One so unique and my own somehow? For this quiet joy, to breathe and to be, / Whom should I thank, somebody tell me? I’m the gardener, I’m the flower as well, / I’m not alone in world’s dungeon cell. On the glass of eternity, I’ve a...»
«Listen! / if the stars are lit, / then someone must need them, of course? / then someone must want them to be there, / calling those droplets of spittle pearls? And wheezing, / in the blizzards of midday dust, / he rushes to God, / fearing he’s out of time / and sobbing, / he ki...»
«Blizzards were blowing everywhere / Throughout the land. / A candle burned upon the table, / A candle burned. As midgets in the summer fly / Towards a flame, / The snowflakes from the yard swarmed to / The window pane. And, on the glass, bright snowy rings / And arrows formed....»