Hatred! A special added taste to the soup.
The soup’s just soup. Simple stock really,
but with a pinch of salt or pepper
from the heart that hates in vain.
Hatred makes the bed,
hatred corrects the notebook,
sweeps the floor and wipes away the dust:
and never lets you out of its sight.
Seeing nothing. Hating.
Hearing nothing. Hating.
Hatred trembles when it sees you.
You can praise it or curse it.
And then it weeps on the quiet,
and hurriedly hides its eyes from you,
and lies in the bed beside you,
fixing a long gaze on the ceiling.
Ненависть! Особый привкус в супе.
Суп — как суп. Простой бульон по сути,
но с щепоткой соли или перцу —
даром ненавидящего сердца.
Ненависть кровати застилает,
ненависть тетради проверяет,
подметает пол и пыль стирает:
из виду никак вас не теряет.
Ничего не видя. Ненавидя.
Ничего не слыша. Ненавидя.
Вздрагивает ненависть при виде
вашем. Хвалите или язвите.
А потом она тихонько плачет,
и глаза от вас поспешно прячет,
и лежит в постели с вами рядом, в
потолок уставясь долгим взглядом.
«3 In my enormous city it is — night, / as from my sleeping house I go — out, / and people think perhaps Tm a daughter or wife / but in my mind is one thought only: night. The July wind now sweeps a way for — me. / From somewhere, some window, music though — faint. / The wind can ...»
«5 Now as a guest from heaven, I / visit your country: / I have seen the vigil of the forests / and sleep in the fields. Somewhere in the night horseshoes / have tom up the grass, and / there are cows breathing heavily in / a sleepy cowshed. Now let me tell you sadly and / with tende...»
«6 Tonight — I am alone in the night, / a homeless and sleepless nun! / Tonight I hold all the keys to this / the only capital city and lack of sleep guides me on my path. / You are so lovely, my dusky Kremlin! / Tonight I put my lips to the breast / of the whole round and warring ear...»
«7 In the pine-tree, tenderly tenderly, / finely finely: something hissed. / It is a child with black / eyes that I see in my sleep. From the fair pine-trees hot / resin drips, and in this / splendid night there are / saw-teeth going over my heart.»