Forgotten? I’m not even wondered!
Forgotten was I hundred times,
And times, I’m in grave, were too hundred,
May be, my corps now there lies.
And Muse was too deafened and blinded,
Was rotting — a seed — in soils’ mesh,
To rise then to blue of the Highland
Like Phoenix from blackness of ash
Забудут? — вот чем удивили!
Меня забывали сто раз,
Сто раз я лежала в могиле,
Где, может быть, я и сейчас.
А Муза и глохла и слепла,
В земле истлевала зерном,
Чтоб после, как Феникс из пепла,
В эфире восстать голубом.
«I take a slab of lovely red clay, / I squeeze and I knead it in my own way, / And I strike its flesh, / I punch / and I flay... / And once my potter's wheel starts to stall / ...»
«Went to see mother — but she died. / Father — they shot him years ago. / Our eagle from the mountainside / Eclipses the whole world below. / And stuffed with slogans to the gills, / Made filthy by that filthy shadow / I want to ask you something sad now / You wretched men, while w...»
«I never feel cramped in my metro, / Because since childhood it goes on like a song / Where, in place of a chorus, one hears: / "Stand to the right; pass on the left." Order is eternal; order is holy: / Those who stand on the right — stay there; / Those, who are on the move, / Always h...»
«While the world is still turning, and while the daylight is broad, / Oh Lord, pray, please give everyone what he or she hasn’t got. / Give the timid a horse to ride, give the wise a bright head, / Give the fortunate money and about me don’t forget. While the world is still turning, Lord, ...»