Do not cry about me, Mother, seeing me in the grave.
I
This greatist hour was hallowed and thandered
By angel's choirs; fire melted sky.
He asked his Father:"Why am I abandoned...?"
And told his Mother: "Mother, do not cry..."
II
Magdalena struggled, cried and moaned.
Piter sank into the stone trance...
Only there, where Mother stood alone,
None has dared cast a single glance.
(из поэмы «Реквием»)
Не рыдай Мене, Мати,
во гробе зрящи.
Хор ангелов великий час восславил,
И небеса расплавились в огне.
Отцу сказал: «Почто Меня оставил?»
А Матери: «О, не рыдай Мене…»
* * *
Магдалина билась и рыдала,
Ученик любимый каменел,
А туда, где молча Мать стояла,
Так никто взглянуть и не посмел.
«She has not taken her first sigh — / She is the word and music both — / And thus of all that lives and grows / A timeless and unbroken tie. Placidly breathe the breasts of sea / The day is bright, as if gone mad, / The sea foam's pallid lilacs stand / In vase of lapis lazuli. O, wo...»
«She has yet to be born: / she is music and word, / and she eternally bonds / all life in this world. / / The sea breathes gently; / the day glitters wildly. / A bowl of dazed azure / sways pale foam-lilac. / / May I too reach back / to that ancient silence, / like a note of...»
«— She’s at the riverbed, in algae, covered / With weeds... She went to sleep there, / But there’s no dream there, as it happens. / — But I loved her, / Loved more than forty thousand brothers / Ever could have loved! / — Hamlet...»
«— She's — She's in the riverbed, in algae / And weeds...She went to them / To sleep, — but there's no sleep there, either! / — But she's the one I loved / Like forty thousand brothers / Couldn't love! / — Hamlet! / She's in the riverbed, ...»