To Roman Gul
Even the graves are not tended in Russia,
Once they may have been, but I have forgotten.
There is no Petersburg, no Moscow, no Kiev,
Once there may have been, alas I have forgotten.
Neither seas, rivers do I know, nor frontiers.
But I know the Russian man's still there.
He has a Russian heart, he has a Russian head.
I'll understand him from the very first word said,
When I meet him face to face ... Then I shall begin
To see his country too, dimly through the mist.
Роману Гулю
Нет в России даже дорогих могил,
Может быть и были — только я забыл.
Нету Петербурга, Киева, Москвы —
Может быть и были, да забыл, увы.
Ни границ не знаю, ни морей, ни рек,
Знаю - там остался русский человек.
Русский он по сердцу, русский по уму,
Если я с ним встречусь, я его пойму.
Сразу, с полуслова... И тогда начну
Различать в тумане и его страну.
«Elderberry fills the scene! / Elderberry, green and green. / Greener than mould on the vat! / Summer’s birth, greener than that! / Elderberry, till the light dies! / Elderberry, green as my eyes. And later — at night — with the fires / Of Rostov! – redness in the eyes, / From...»
«Homesickness! That long / Exposure to misery! / It’s all the same to me – / Where I’m utterly lonely Or what stones I wander / Home by, with my sacks, / Home that’s no more mine / Than a hospital, a barracks. It’s all the same to me, what / Faces I bristle among, a lion / ...»
«Cut veins: irrecoverably / Irreplaceably, life whips out. / Bring out basins and bowls! / Though the bowl’s — too low, / The basin’s — too shallow. Over the lip, watch it flow, / To black earth, to feed the reeds. / Irreplaceably, verse will go, / Irrevocably, irrecoverably.»
«A weight, on my brow / The laurel of praise. / "I can’t sing, anyhow," / "But you will." "The way, Sound (Transform me / To sawdust, at best!) / Like milk, you see is – / Gone from my breast. Dry and empty, / At spring’s height: / Feeling’s dead twig." / "– An ancient ...»