Someone said to me: “Your beloved
Will be wrapped in a fiery cloak...”
Whose sling hurled a stone.
Crashing with frenzied force?..
Whose flint arrow
Is buried in the sand by the spring?
Whose fleeting hoof
Left its imprint in the rock?
Whose gleaming visor
Glinted past, there, in the thicket?
In the sky flutters a red cloak...
I did not glimpse his face.
Кто-то мне сказал: твой милый
Будет в огненном плаще...
Камень, сжатый в чьей праще,
Загремел с безумной силой?
Чья кремнистая стрела
У ключа в песок зарыта?
Чье летучее копыто
Отчеканила скала?
Чье блестящее забрало
Промелькнуло там, средь чащ?
В небе вьется красный плащ...
Я лица не увидала.
«No, I can’t ever forget / your child’s mouth, your girl’s glance, / bold — I dream of you, / I speak, I think of you — always — like rhythm. I feel vast oceans / heaving as the moon yaws, / and whole galaxies, burning, / swinging as they have always swung, will always swing....»
«Being drawn into earthly passions, / I vision as from gloom to light / Once, dressed in black, Dark Angel rushes / To cry: "Salvation is a lie!" Yet, unassuming and lighthearted, / Delightful as a noble deed, / Comes angel from the white department / To add that hope is true indeed.»
«To Vl. Motyl As a child, I was convinced / that from all conditions / Potion of the Danish Prince / is the most efficient. / And that faith is burning since / brighter every year... / Potion of the Danish Prince / Savor, cavalier! Potion of this Prince or King / is as sweet as cand...»
«They're yet to be fitted, your veil and your gown, / And chanters to bless us for life, / But hurries time — dare-driver renowned! — / And horses are eager to fly. If only the ding-bells were angels safeguarding, / The sleigh were by tracks to abide! / Two buddies forever, devotion an...»