In the breeze, on a bough that is asking
If it’s time for the birds to sing,
Like a sparrow soaked with the showers.
My lilac blossom, you swing.
The raindrop’s a heavy button,
And the garden in spate appears.
Bespattered and wet and sprinkled
As with millions of blue tears.
My sorrow fostered and nursed it.
In the time of the thorns, for you;
On this very night reviving.
It murmured, and its scent blew.
All night you tapped at the window.
Made the shutters shake in distress;
Suddenly the sharp perfume
Ran forward along your dress.
Awakened by scented marvels
From those times and memories.
To-day the garden is gazing
With eyes like anemones.
Ты в ветре, веткой пробующем,
Не время ль птицам петь,
Намокшая воробышком
Сиреневая ветвь!
У капель — тяжесть запонок,
И сад слепит, как плес,
Обрызганный, закапанный
Мильоном синих слез.
Моей тоскою вынянчен
И от тебя в шипах,
Он ожил ночью нынешней,
Забормотал, запах.
Всю ночь в окошко торкался,
И ставень дребезжал.
Вдруг дух сырой прогорклости
По платью пробежал.
Разбужен чудным перечнем
Тех прозвищ и времен,
Обводит день теперешний
Глазами анемон.
«The girls, those who pace / With boots of black eyes / Upon the flowers of my heart. / The girls who put javelins / Upon their eyelashes’ lakes. / The girls who wash their feet / In the lake of my words.»
«For me it’s much more pleasant / To look at the stars / Than to sing up a prisoner / To a death sentence. / For me it’s much more pleasant / To listen to the voices of flowers, / Whispering: "It’s he" / Bending their heads, / As I walk through the garden — / Than to see the...»
«I call you to try with a sword / To touch the shirt. / It’s away. / Say with the sword: the King is naked. / What we’ve done with fuzz of breath / I call you to do with iron.»
«To snow you / With silver of powder. / To give you a big broom, / The right to chase winter — / To give you.»