A widow in black — the crying fall
Covers all hearts with a depressing cloud...
While her man's words are clearly recalled,
She will not stop her lamentations loud.
It will be so, until the snow puff
Will give a mercy to the pined and tired.
Forgetfulness of suffering and love —
Though paid by life — what more could be desired?
Заплаканная осень, как вдова
В одеждах черных, все сердца туманит.
Перебирая мужнины слова,
Она рыдать не перестанет.
И будет так, пока тишайший снег
Не сжалится над скорбной и усталой...
Забвенье боли и забвенье нег —
За это жизнь отдать не мало.
«For Max Voloshin They’ll pay a visit to our place / Just when our eyes are free of pain, / Let pain appear, — they won’t remain: / The hearts of cats feel no disgrace! It’s funny, poet, wouldn’t you say, / How hard we try to make them tame. / They will not play the roles of sla...»
«My poems, written early, when I doubted / that I could ever play the poet’s part, / erupting, as though water from the fountain / or sparks from a petard, / and rushing as though little demons, senseless, / into the sanctuary, where incense spreads, / my poems about death and adolescen...»
«You, walking past me and racing / After charms that you’ll hardly attain, — / If you knew how much fire is wasted, / How much life is wasted in vain! And what flames, so courageously rash, / An occasional shade can evoke, / And how my heart was burnt into ash / By this useless gunpo...»
«You walk, somewhat like myself, / Hunched, and not looking up. / I used to lower my eyes as well! / Stop here, passerby, stop! Having gathered your flowers in a / Bouquet, read the stone by the gate — / It will say I was named Marina, / And I lived to the following date. It’s a gra...»