I'm not afraid of life. With its exciting sound
It gives to you to burn and to your thoughts to glow.
Disquiet but not thought grows in a manless mist,
And it is cold at nights for flowers crystal with.
But moments scattered are in unemployment mine,
When any touch to soul is painful never mind
I am exciting you among for private peace,
As match in a keen wind enclosed hand mine with…
Let be just this blink… But don’t touch me at next blink,
I’m going by the touch my way avoiding link…
Do notice absent-minded look in silence mine
And don’t prevent around me just to be alive.
That’s better. Just would not me notice other people
In fog, perhaps, and also a creative grief in.
Я жизни не боюсь. Своим бодрящим шумом
Она дает гореть, дает светиться думам.
Тревога, а не мысль растет в безлюдной мгле,
И холодно цветам ночами в хрустале.
Но в праздности моей рассеяны мгновенья,
Когда мучительно душе прикосновенье,
И я дрожу средь вас, дрожу за свой покой,
Как спичку на ветру загородив рукой...
Пусть только этот миг... В тот миг меня не трогай,
Я ощупью иду тогда своей дорогой...
Мой взгляд рассеянный в молчаньи заприметь
И не мешай другим вокруг меня шуметь.
Так лучше. Только бы меня не замечали
В тумане, может быть, и творческой печали.
«The moon relinquished sharp-edge cliffs at sea line, / And with transparent gold: the waters shine; / On board of their pointed boat, this evening / The friends enjoy their heated glass of wine. When looking at the clouds passing swiftly / Through the reflection of the moonlight post; / S...»
«Unapproachable, usually shy, / You are now like fire, all burning / Let me lock your unusual sight / In the poem of love I am saying. Look, how perfectly changed with the lamp / Is the hovel, and wall, even window / Our figures are covered with shade / Which is gentle like night in the ...»
«I shut Homer and sat by the bay window glass. / On my lips the last word of the Iliad fluttered. / The night watchman’s long shadow unhurriedly passed, / And above something — lamplight or moonlight — bright sputtered. So, so often I’d throw down challenging looks / And I met in rep...»
«No, I can’t ever forget / your child’s mouth, your girl’s glance, / bold — I dream of you, / I speak, I think of you — always — like rhythm. I feel vast oceans / heaving as the moon yaws, / and whole galaxies, burning, / swinging as they have always swung, will always swing....»