. . . . . . . . . . . . .
And all night there hazes meandered across the moon,
And all night someone pitifully sensitive dozed
On the seat there, his derby hat pulled down low.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
And towards daybreak, in the milky fog
There was hanging on the birch a
Twistedly horrible and torturingly
Black pod, slightly below the disheveled
Nests, and as long as a man’s height...
And the bluishness looked doubtingly
At late Autumn, which had given birth.
.................
И всю ночь там по месяцу дымы вились,
И всю ночь кто-то жалостно-чуткий
На скамье там дремал, уходя в котелок.
.................
А к рассвету в молочном тумане повис
На березе искривленно-жуткий
И мучительно-черный стручок,
Чуть пониже растрепанных гнезд,
А длиной — в человеческий рост…
И глядела с сомнением просинь
На родившую позднюю осень.
«The sullen rain / cast a glance / askance. / Beyond the still / clear grille — / the iron reasoning of wires strung overhead — / a featherbed. / And on it / rested lightly / the legs of rising stars. / But as / the streetlamps — tsars / in crowns of gas — / began t...»
«With those broad brims, jackets long and spruce, / With notebooks full of verses — all your own, / So long ago to ashes you reduced, / Like blooms of lilac, off its branches blown. There, where you are, to form is nothing bound, / All things are blurred, disjoined, vague and shapeless. /...»
«Among the other children in the flock / She, with her reddish mass of matted hair, / A worn-out smock tucked into pants threadbare, / Resembles suddenly an awkward baby frog — / With lips so thin, and teeth all shaped so wrongly, / With features pinched, and face so plain and homely. To...»
«In this birch grove of quietness / Faraway from disasters and plights, / Where at dawn there oscillates / The unwinking and rosy light, / Where as if a clear avalanche / Leaves pour down from branches on high, / Sing me, oriole, song of a hermit`s chance, / Song about my life. Having ...»