Sins are forgiven for poetry.
Great sins for great poetry.
Even mortal sins are forgiven
when I write poetry with my whole soul.
But if people don’t forgive me while I’m still alive
Later they’ll smite oblivion from me.
Even though they’re evil-doers
let them remember [me]
for something good
not just for any old thing.
I ask the person who has knowledge and knows:
strike, but do not forget.
Kill, but do not forget.
Грехи прощают за стихи.
Грехи большие —
за стихи большие.
Прощают даже смертные грехи,
когда стихи пишу от всей души я.
А ежели при жизни не простят,
потом забвение с меня скостят.
Пусть даже лихо деют —
вспоминают
пускай добром,
не чем-нибудь.
Прошу того, кто ведает и знает:
ударь, но не забудь.
Убей, но не забудь.
«Beneath the plush plaid’s sweet caresses, / I piece together last night’s dream. / Who’s been defeated? — Who’s successful? — / What has it been? Rethinking everything once more, / I’m tortured and the pain persists. / In this, for which I know no word, / Did love exist? ...»
«My eyes are scorched by every gaze, / Each day is different in a way. / I am telling you this, just in case, / I should ever cheat and betray: No matter whose lips I’ll kiss / With passionate love and affection, / And no matter to whom, in bliss, / At night, I’ll vow in confession ...»
«I like the fact that you’re not mad about me, / I like the fact that I’m not mad for you, / And that the globe of planet earth is grounded / And will not drift away beneath our shoes. / I like the fact that I can laugh here loudly, / Not play with words, feel unabashed and loose, / A...»
«I’d like to ask the mirrored glass, — / All hazy, mystical, and foggy, — / To show exactly where you’ll pass / And where you’ll stop for lodging. I look and see: An old ship’s mast. / There, on the deck, you’re standing... / You, by the clouded train... The vast, / Green f...»