Andrei Voznesensky
Still...

Place your palms on my shoulders,
let us embrace, —
only the breath of your lips on my face,
behind us, only the crashing rollers.

Our backs like two moonlit shells
are shut together behind us,
we cuddle, observing the quietness,
forming life’s double bond with ourselves.

In the midst of a circus-like game,
we use our shoulders to screen
the love that arises between,
like two palms screening a flame.

Does each cell have a soul within it?
If so, swing open those doors
and your souls will flutter like linnets
in the cages of my pores!

Every mystery will soon become known.
Is it possible that we also will be
torn apart to dry up alone, —
like two muted shells near the sea?

The eggshells of our backs are smothered
with the burden of life’s heavy heap.
This presses us to one another.

We’re asleep.

Translated by Andrey Kneller