O drops in the stillness of
Night, rattle of the drowsy
Spirit: trembling, they swell
And fall evenly and precisely.
In the stixless-sleepless night
I cannot help waiting for their
Clang; the lonely candle’s wick
Winks and flares up, grieving.
And it seems that, hiding, I must
Attend at a strange marriage,
Understanding the hopeless union
Of two lives dwindling in the gloom.
О капли в ночной тишине,
Дремотного духа трещотка,
Дрожа набухают оне
И падают мерно и чётко.
В недвижно-бессонной ночи
Их лязга не ждать не могу я:
Фитиль одинокой свечи
Мигает и пышет, тоскуя.
И мнится, я должен, таясь,
На странном присутствовать браке,
Поняв безнадёжную связь
Двух тающих жизней во мраке.
«Immortality? For you two-legged moles, / Who aren’t worthy of even a day on earth? / Perhaps — after feeling deeply offended — / Lizards, toads, and worms will want the same... Petty bourgeois with wings! Gingerbread and cakes! / They gorged themselves for half a century and now they ...»
«A simian profile / With slits for eyes; / Dumpling lips and a potato nose: / Neither a girl nor a goat. Hair like a fishtail; / No bust, more like a frying pan; / And growing from the chin — / It’s terrible, I know — a beard. Choppy gestures, long feet, / Hands twisted backward...»
«Family — a mess of acquaintances — whiners, / An insufferable carnival of fools. / From work, from friends, from rotten politics / The brain is endlessly assailed. / Take books — garbage and filth: / One cat scratches, / Another licks, breeds filth / And mews sensually... Peter ...»
«All trousers are cut in the same way, / Same goes for whiskers, overcoats, even pots. / I am the same as everyone on the street / And blend in completely at the corner... But I would not trade in my personality / To become a member of it all, or it of me — / I wrap myself entirely in in...»