(To my friend, S. K. Bulich)
Select a dark night and in a field, unpeopled, naked,
dip into gray twilight.... May the air, having fanned, becalm,
May the stars, winking, in the cold sky slumber on....
Tell the heart not to count its thumps....
Stop in mid-step and listen! You're not alone... The wings
of a bird, heavy, sodden, drift through the fog.
Listen…. it's the flight of a predator, a sovereign avian,
They call that bird T i m e, and on its wings is your will,
A passing dream of happiness, hopes' golden rags …
(Другу моему С. К. Буличу)
Тёмную выбери ночь и в поле, безлюдном и голом,
В сумрак седой окунись… пусть ветер, провеяв, утихнет,
Пусть в небе холодном звезды, мигая, задремлют…
Сердцу скажи, чтоб ударов оно не считало…
Шаг задержи и прислушайся! Ты не один… Точно крылья
Птицы, намокшие тяжко, плывут средь тумана.
Слушай… это летит хищная, властная птица,
Время ту птицу зовут, и на крыльях у ней твоя сила,
Радости сон мимолётный, надежд золотые лохмотья…
«(Instead of a letter) Tobacco smoke eats the air away. / The room, — / a chapter from Kruchenykh’s Inferno. / Recall, — / by the window, / that day, / I caressed you ecstatically, with fervor. / Here you sit now, / with your heart in iron armor. / In a day, / you’ll scol...»
«In lieu of a letter The room’s a chapter of Kruchonykh’s Inferno. / Air / gnawed out by tobacco smoke. / Remember – / At the window, / For the first time, / Burning, / With tender frenzy your arms I’d stroke. Now you’re sitting there, / Heart in armour; / A day, / And...»
«Instead of a letter Tobacco smoke corroded the air. / The room — / is a chapter in Kruchenykh’s hell. / Remember — / this window, / Here / I stroked your hands in a frenzy. / Well, / Your heart encased in iron. / Reviling, / You’ll throw me out, perhaps, / one day. / ...»
«First Prelude to the Poem A strange alarm weighs on my heart, / comrades of posterity! / Rummaging among / these days’ / petrified crap, / exploring the twilight of our times, / you, / possibly, / will inquire about me too. / And, possibly, your scholars / will declare, / wi...»