Confusion
II
Don’t love me, don’t wish to see me?
So handsome, and cursed all the while!
And now, I can’t even fly freely,
Though I’ve always had wings as a child.
The fog fills my eyes with clouds,
Things and faces are fused, all in all,
Just a single small tulip stands out,
Red from your buttonhole.
Смятение
2
Не любишь, не хочешь смотреть?
О, как ты красив, проклятый!
И я не могу взлететь,
А с детства была крылатой.
Мне очи застит туман,
Сливаются вещи и лица,
И только красный тюльпан,
Тюльпан у тебя в петлице.
«My verse written so early in my life / I didn't know I was a poet yet, / My verse which burst off, like drops from a fountain, / Or sparks from rocket jets; And burst like tiny demons through the holy / Sanctum where sleep and incense come together; / My verse that went on about death and...»
«How's life with the other woman? / Simpler, yeah? A stroke of oars / by a long coastline, and even / memory of me unmoors as a floating island (in the / sky, not on the waters)! Poor / spirits, souls! You should be solely / sisters and not paramours. How's life with an ordinary / ...»
«Chénier went up to meet the guillotine, / And I'm alive. That is a dreadful sin. / There are times that steel over everyone. / He is no bard who sings as bullets spin. / He is no father, trembling at the gate, / Whose arms rip battle-armor off his son. / There are times when the sun ...»
«Ah, longing for the homeland's air... / A languor long exposed as hooey! / I absolutely do not care / about where I am absolutely alone. Nor down what street of stone / I shlep a simple shopping basket / to a house that doesn't know it's home / any more than hospital o...»