to N. Goon
I haven't lived so long as you...
I've sung while you've been down and out.
A spirit came out of the blue
To show the sea of ample sound...
Your soul is chained stirred by the blast
Of storm and whirlwind wailing there,
While mine is free, as fine as dust,
That blows around in the air.
My friend, I've felt since long ago
I'll be impaired by my portion...
My heart is berried, and I know
It won"t be ever set in motion!
When we get tired and cease to be,
When in the haze we disappear
Do come to have a rest with me,
And I will come to see you, dear!
Н. Гуну
Ты много жил, я больше пел...
Ты испытал и жизнь и горе,
Ко мне незримый дух слетел,
Открывший полных звуков море...
Твоя душа уже в цепях;
Её коснулись вихрь и бури;
Моя — вольна: так тонкий прах
По ветру носится в лазури.
Мой друг, я чувствую давно,
Что скоро жизнь меня коснется...
Но сердце в землю снесено
И никогда не встрепенется!
Когда устанем на пути,
И нас покроет смрад туманный,
Ты отдохнуть ко мне приди,
А я — к тебе, мой друг желанный!
«I saw black pine-needles / on a canvas of stone; / her hand, I thought, thin as bone — / then it knocks at my very vitals. So soon? So strange, now to stand / beside you in the evening, a skeleton; / to stretch out a long thin hand / and conjure constellations into your room.»
«A Fable You know the herb they use for doses; / it grows at the edge of filthy places. / This is a tale of ancient princes: / Russia fought the Mongols here / in the lighter days of a younger year. / With a rough sack of sour complaints / the New Year took the old one's place, / with ...»
«Fly! Little three-letter wordlet / busily washing your winglet, / what could be sweeter or better / than watching you swallow my letter?»
«I'm going out again today / into life, into the marketplace, / to lead a regiment of songs / against the roar of rat and race.»