Poppies at Midday
Scentlessly and flowerily someone’s
Delicate enfolding is opened —
Wings of scarlet cambric have
Unrolled and will not quiver...
Offending with their bloodstained spot
All that cherishes-distance and
Nearness — the poppies have spread avidly
Through the languid, succulent grass.
But not even day makes them rejoice;
The poppies’ spots are dark in the
Sky, and their bright destiny is
Wearied by a heavy autumn dream.
By the dream that the garden will be
Empty and overgrown, and that in it,
As in church, the old women’s heavy
Heads are blessed by the Sacrament.
Вариант
Безуханно и цветисто
Чей-то нежный сгиб разогнут, —
Крылья алого батиста
Развернулись и не дрогнут.
Всё, что нежит, — даль да близь,
Оскорбив пятном кровавым,
Жадно маки разрослись
По сомлевшим тучным травам.
Но не в радость даже день им,
Темны пятна маков в небе,
И тяжелым сном осенним
Истомлен их яркий жребий.
Сном о том, что пуст и глух
Будет сад, а в нем, как в храме,
Тяжки головы старух…
Осененные Дарами.
«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 ...»
«When faints the heart for sorrow, / In life's hard, darkened hour, / My spirit breathes a wondrous prayer / Full of love's inward power. There is a might inspiring / Each consecrated word, / That speaks the inconceivable / And holy will of God. The heavy load slips from my heart — / ...»