For N. Rykovoya
All is traded, betrayed, and languished,
Death’s black wing has been flashing in flight,
All is gnawed at by the ravenous anguish…
So how is it that we bask in the light?
In the day, the woods send a stream
Of a cherry scent through the town nearby,
And new galaxies shimmer and gleam
In the translucent night skies of July, —
And something wondrous nears the neglected
Broken homes, on the verge of its entry,
Still unknown to us, but expected
And desired since the turn of the century.
Наталии Рыковой
Всё расхищено, предано, продано,
Чёрной смерти мелькало крыло,
Всё голодной тоскою изглодано,
Отчего же нам стало светло?
Днём дыханьями веет вишнёвыми
Небывалый под городом лес,
Ночью блещет созвездьями новыми
Глубь прозрачных июльских небес, —
И так близко подходит чудесное
К развалившимся грязным домам…
Никому, никому неизвестное,
Но от века желанное нам.
«With a cane he feels his way, / blind man on a random walk, / carefully he plants a foot / and mumbles something to himself. / In the whiteness of his eyes / a universe reflected back: / a house, a field, a fence, a cow, / patches of a pale blue sky — / everything that he can't see»
«for Sergei Krechetov A thin howl from the dogs on guard. / Tonight still camped in the same place, / no-good vagabond orphans, we are / warming our hands at the bonfire. A sullen look beneath the brows / from empty nights of far-fetched sleep. / The smoke is full of ruby floaters / whi...»
«There was a house here. They recently dismantled / the upstairs for firewood, leaving just the rough / lower stonework structure. I go there / often of an evening to relax. The open sky / and green trees in the little courtyard / rise up so fresh from all that's fallen, / and there's the...»
«If you have eyes — through day you'll see a night / the rays from that inflaming disk won't reach. / A pair of swallows fighting to escape / flap at the window, where they feebly cheep. But that transparent yet unyielding sheet / was never cut by wings, however sharp; / no darting that ...»