At the new moon, he walked out,
The friend I loved. I’ll be okay!
“Tightrope dancer,” He joked loud,
“How will you survive till May?”
As to a brother, I replied then,
Without gripes or jealousy,
But four new cloaks just aren’t likely
To replace this loss for me.
Let there be danger where I walk,
The way of grief fills me with dread…
The bottom of my shoes are chalked,
My Chinese parasol shines red!
The orchestra plays gleefully,
And lips are smiling with delight,
And yet the heart, the heart can see
The fifth lodge is unoccupied.
Меня покинул в новолунье
Мой друг любимый. Ну так что ж!
Шутил: «Канатная плясунья!
Как ты до мая доживёшь?»
Ему ответила, как брату,
Я, не ревнуя, не ропща,
Но не заменят мне утрату
Четыре новые плаща.
Пусть страшен путь мой, пусть опасен,
Ещё страшнее путь тоски…
Как мой китайский зонтик красен,
Натерты мелом башмачки!
Оркестр весёлое играет,
И улыбаются уста.
Но сердце знает, сердце знает,
Что ложа пятая пуста!
«I'm peering at you, oh, numbers, / And you emerge clothed in animals, in their skins, / Leaning calmly on uprooted oaks. / You bestow unity between the snake-like movement / Of the universe's spine and the dance of a rocker. / You reveal centuries as teeth of a rapid laugh. / My eyes hav...»
«Neither fragile Japanese shadows / Nor mellifluous Indian daughters / Sound as sorrowful / As the last supper orations. / On the verge of death all that has happened / Repeats itself quickly but differently. / And that is the basis / For the dance of death and its achievement.»
«Oh Asia! You are my torment. / I fancy thunderclouds like maiden's brows, / And lengthy gatherings at night / Like the bloom of tender shoulders. / Where is the prophet of a new day? / Oh, If only Asia would cover my knees / With the hair of blue rivers, / And whisper her cryptic pl...»
«While Achmatova's tears and songs / Were raining over Tsarskoe Selo, / I, unwinding the enchantress' ball of thread, / Dragged myself through the wilderness / Where impossibility was dying, / A tired actor / Striding forward. / Meanwhile the curly head / Of the subterranean bull wa...»