Husbands with their doings and nerves,
sense of duty and sense of guilt,
ought to die first, first,
they ought not die second*
Wives ought to grow old little by little
reaching even hundred-year limits,
on rare occasions, but over and over again
remembering their husbands.
You should not have done it the way
you did. You should not.
With a kind smile on your lips
you should have lived,
you should have lived a long time.
To live to old age, to gray hairs
is what wives are obliged and ought to do,
Getting on with your things at home,
breaking certain men’s hearts
or even — well, why not? —
drinking a toast in memory of your husbands.
Мужья со своими делами, нервами,
чувством долга, чувством вины
должны умирать первыми, первыми,
вторыми они умирать не должны.
Жены должны стареть понемногу,
хоть до столетних дойдя рубежей,
изредка, впрочем, снова и снова
вспоминая своих мужей.
Ты не должна была делать так,
как ты сделала. Ты не должна была.
С доброй улыбкою на устах
жить ты должна была,
долго должна была.
Жить до старости, до седины
жены обязаны и должны,
делая в доме свои дела,
чьи-нибудь сердца разбивая
или даже — была не была —
чарку — в память мужей — распивая.
«“Your palms are fiery, / The Easter bells ring loud, / You’re tempted, like St. Anthony, / By visions all around.” “How was such day’s affair / Mixed with the holy days, / Like thick and tangled hair / Of Magdalenes half-crazed.” “Thus only children love, / Just once, a...»
«You’ll live happy, evil-free, / You will judge and reign, / With your darling you will see / All your sons attain. You’ll succeed without trying, / Get respect and praise, / You won’t know that I’m, from crying, / Losing track of days. There are many homeless, slighted, / But...»
«1 The pillow is already hot / On both its sides. / The second candle’s at / Its end, and ravens’ cries / Are now resounding near. / I didn’t sleep this night, / Too late for sleep I fear, / Oh, how unbearably white / Is this curtain here. / Welcome! 2 The same voice and ga...»
«And cursing each other with brute / Passion, white-hot all through, / Neither one of us understood / How small the earth was for two, / That memory torments with spite, / Afflicting the most strong-hearted, / That one learns to plead in the night: / Where has my friend departed? / An...»