The terrible! — After each drop, it stays
All ears: is it sole still, trying
To squeeze the branches like wrinkled lace,
Or is a witness prying?
But, choking out loud from the heavy weight
Of swelling, the spongy soil widens,
And heard far away, as in August late,
The harvest of midnight ripens.
No sound. No one spying. Upon the proof
Of emptiness, it is keeping
To its old tricks — tumbling down the roof,
And over the edge, and dripping.
I’ll give it my lips, and I will then be
All ears: am I sole still, crying
Whenever my chance is, liberally,
Or is a witness prying?
But silence. No leaf makes a move. There is
No light, only those horrifying
Loud gulps and the flip-flops of splashes, with
The pauses for tears and for sighing.
Ужасный! — Капнет и вслушается:
Всё он ли один на свете
Мнет ветку в окне, как кружевце.
Или есть свидетель.
Но давится внятно от тягости
Отеков — земля ноздревая,
И слышно: далеко, как в августе,
Полуночь в полях назревает.
Ни звука. И нет соглядатаев.
В пустынности удостоверясь,
Берется за старое — скатывается
По кровле, за желоб и через.
К губам поднесу и прислушаюсь:
Всё я ли один на свете,
Готовый навзрыд при случае,
Или есть свидетель.
Но тишь. И листок не шелохнется.
Ни признака зги, кроме жутких
Глотков, и плескания в шлепанцах,
И вздохов и слез в промежутке.
«2 Three usurpers' wife, / Daughter of arrogant Mnishka, / You did not birth a son / To your proud one. In bare-headed sleep / In resounding window flight / You did not wave your hand / To your proud one. On the square full of fate / From spits and smacks on ear / You did not cover...»
«3 Heart, betrayal! / But never parting! / And the tan arm of the thief / To the white lips. Short concussion of bones on the plates. / Gregory! Dimitry! / Tsar-killers! Blood and fluff! / And — on the spears / With the second jump!»
«4 "Your chest is redolent, / Just like a rosemary trunk... / A most honorable lady..." / "My young honored one..." "I'm dark, unrecognized, quiet... / With what shall I repay..." / From underneath the eyelids / Something, "With life!" did say. In every chased-down stranger / We ar...»
«White sail out in the bay / billowing in the wind. / Why sail so far away? / Why leave so much behind? Winds must play on the seas / and masts creak in the wind. / Fortune is not what he seeks, / nor what he's left behind. A golden light still pours / down onto deep blue seas; / th...»