To G. V.
Darkness has covered the room an’
it’s quiet and still as can be.
Good heavens! Your Majesty Woman,
you really want to see me?
Lighting is muddy in here,
the walls have a leakage trace...
Your Majesty Woman! Oh dear!
How did you get to this place?
My goodness! You came like a fire.
Smoke makes me gasp, I can’t breathe...
Now do come in, I desire.
Don’t stand in the doorway, please.
Where do you come from, my pretty?
How funny! I must be on edge...
You have mistaken the city,
the door, and the street and the age.
Г. Венгеровой
Тьмою здесь все занавешено
и тишина, как на дне...
Ваше Величество, Женщина,
да неужели — ко мне?
Тусклое здесь электричество,
с крыши сочится вода,
Женщина, Ваше Величество,
как Вы решились сюда?
О, Ваш приход — как пожарище,
дымно и трудно дышать.
Ну, заходите, пожалуйста,
что ж на пороге стоять.
Кто Вы такая? Откуда Вы?
Ах, я смешной человек.
Просто Вы дверь перепутали,
улицу, город и век.
«We’re all boozers and floozies here, / altogether a joyless crowd! / On the walls, the flowers and birds / yearn for clouds. You sit puffing your black pipe; / smoke is rising; strange and dim. / This tight skirt makes me look / slimmer than slim. The windows boarded up for good — ...»
«We had thought we were beggars, / with nothing at all, / but as loss followed loss / and each day / became a day of memorial, / we began to make songs / about the Lord’s generosity / and our bygone wealth.»
«Choke all week in the fumes and air stinking / of fear, for the bare means of life; / spend the Saturday dozing and drinking, / with your arm round an unlovely wife. Then on Sunday by train for an outing, / with a rug to spread out on the grass, / just to doze off again, never doubting, /...»
«The stars glow blue. The trees are swaying. / A routine evening. Routine winter, too. / All is forgiven. Nothing’s forgiven. / Music and gloom. We are all heroes, we are all traitors; / all words are worthless, each and every one. / My dear contemporaries — / having fun?»