When the supreme event had come to pass, and He,
Our God, upon the cross had died in agony,
On either side the tree two looked on one another:
One, Mary Magdalene, and one, the Virgin Mother —
In grief two women stood.
But now whom do we see beneath the holy rood,
As though it were the porch of him who rules the city?
Not here the holy twain, borne down by pain and pity,
But, shakos on their heads and bayonet in hand,
Beside the crucifix two bristling sentries stand.
Are they set here to guard the cross as 'twere State cargo?
Do you fear mice or thieves? Wherefore this strict embargo?
Would you add dignity unto the King of kings?
What honor do you think your patronage thus brings,
You mighty of the earth, what help by you is rendered
To Him who's crowned with thorns, to Him who freely tendered
His body to the scourge, without complaint or fear,
The Christ who had to bear the cross, the nails, the spear?
You dread the mob's affront to Him who won remission
Of sins, and saved the race of Adam from perdition?
Is it to keep the way for strolling gentry clear
That thus the common folk are not admitted here?
Когда великое свершалось торжество
И в муках на кресте кончалось Божество,
Тогда по сторонам Животворяща Древа
Мария-грешница и Пресвятая Дева
Стояли две жены,
В неизмеримую печаль погружены.
Но у подножия теперь Креста Честнаго,
Как будто у крыльца правителя градскаго,
Мы зрим поставленных на место жён святых
В ружье и кивере двух грозных часовых.
К чему, скажите мне, хранительная стража?
Или Распятие казённая поклажа,
И вы боитеся воров или мышей?
Иль мните важности придать Царю Царей?
Иль покровительством спасаете могучим
Владыку, тернием венчанного колючим,
Христа, предавшего послушно плоть Свою
Бичам мучителей, гвоздям и копию?
Иль опасаетесь, чтоб чернь не оскорбила
Того, Чья казнь весь род Адамов искупила,
И, чтоб не потеснить гуляющих господ,
Пускать не велено сюда простой народ?
«I splashed some colours from a tumbler / and smeared the drab world with emotion. / I charted on a dish of jelly / the jutting cheekbones of the ocean. / Upon the scales of a tin salmon / I read the calls of lips yet mute. / And you, / could you have played a noc...»
«Windows split the city’s great hell / into tiny hellets — vamps with lamps. / The cars, red devils, exploded their yells / right in your ear, rearing on their rumps. And there, under the signboard with herrings from Kerch / an old man, knocked down, stooping to search / for his specs,...»
«Now, listen! / Surely, if the stars arc lit / there’s somebody who longs for them, / somebody who wants them to shine a bit, / somebody who calls it, that wee speck of spittle, a gem? And overridden / by blizzards of midday dust, / tears in to God, / afraid that it’s too late, / ...»
«You, wallowing through orgy alter orgy, / owning a bathroom and warm, snug toilet! / How dare you read about awards of St. Georgi / from newspaper columns with your blinkers oily?! Do you realise, multitudinous nonentities / thinking how better to fill your gob, / that perhaps just now Pe...»