The day will come, the warblers’ loud chirps
Will sound in chorus, praising birdsome quirks,
Merrily, a dragonfly will don
Her brightest weekend eyes and keep them on.
Once again the skies will be for birds,
And the honey meadows — for lungworts.
Only those will be dimmed at noon,
Who are moonlit even without the moon,
There will be hands to hold and embrace,
There will be lips to kiss and taste.
Even the wind, after reciting poetry,
Will fall asleep under its alder tree.
День придет, и славок громкий хор
Хорошо прославит птичий вздор,
И, смеясь, наденет стрекоза
Выходные яркие глаза.
Будут снова небеса для птиц,
А Медынь для звонких медуниц,
Будут только те затемнены,
У кого луна и без луны,
Будут руки, чтобы обнимать,
Будут губы, чтобы целовать,
Даже ветер, почитав стихи,
Заночует у своей ольхи.
«Everybody chooses for himself / His religion, loyalties and women. / Service to a prophet, or a demon, / Everybody chooses for himself. Everybody chooses on his own / The word for loving and the word for praying, / A dueling foil, a sword for dragonslaying. / Everybody chooses on his ...»
«He has a photo of himself / next to a girlfriend, friend and neighbor; / at leisure and in tireless labor; / holding a flute, a ball, a saber; / himself — raising glass of wine; / himself — receiving a diploma; / himself — in front of roofs and walls, / at gates of Sodom and Go...»
«So what if I'd gone through it all? / It's been a while. I don't recall. / I can't recall dates any more, / nor the locations of attacks. (I am one atom of that war, / a nameless private. I came back. / I am one shot's mistaken trace, / I'm bloody ice of January. / I am imprisoned ...»
«And all that's needed is to look, that's all it takes: / To look indeed, and be a little more attentive, / And you will stay, becoming instantly a captive / Of these two eyes, their unanticipated depth. / And all that's needed is to read, that's all it takes: / To read indeed, and over eve...»