No matter what went on around them; no matter
what message the snowstorm was straining to utter;
or how crowded they thought that wooden affair;
or that there was nothing for them anywhere.
Above their encampment, the sky. cold and idle,
and leaning as big things will do over little,
was burning a star, which from this very instant
had no place to go, save the gaze of the infant.
First, they were together. And — most of all — second,
they now were a threesome. Whatever was reckoned —
the stuff they were brewing, accruing, receiving —
was bound to be split into three, like this evening.
The campfire flared on its very last ember.
They all were asleep now. The star would resemble
no other, because of its knack, at its nadir,
for taking an alien for its neighbor.
Не важно, что было вокруг, и не важно,
о чем там пурга завывала протяжно,
что тесно им было в пастушьей квартире,
что места другого им не было в мире.
Морозное небо над ихним привалом
с привычкой большого склоняться над малым
сверкало звездою — и некуда деться
ей было отныне от взгляда младенца.
Во-первых, они были вместе. Второе,
и главное, было, что их было трое,
и всё, что творилось, варилось, дарилось
отныне, как минимум, на три делилось.
Костер полыхал, но полено кончалось;
все спали. Звезда от других отличалась
сильней, чем свеченьем, казавшимся лишним,
способностью дальнего смешивать с ближним.
«The door is open: welcome, all who come! / All roads, all journeys meet in this my home. / Through its chilly cells, in limewash white, / the breeze transmits the waves' muffled thud / against the low beach, wafting bitter wormwood / and the brittle voice of the cicada. / From tall windo...»
«Who will bring our chronicle to later times? / No written text, no thought, no word will reach them. / The licking flame will swallow up all signs / and blood will eat away the blind syllables. / And yet, maybe, some chance-remembered verse / will keep and hold a sacred memory. / None of...»
«Over her head and rising higher / The flowers' sheaves, descends from hill, / She neared and stared... / Who are you? / — Maya. / I am so grateful that you're here. / There — mad...»
«In this night, I will be a lantern / Inside tender hands of yours. / Don't you break, don't breath hard, don't stumble / Over the stony stairs. Just carry me very gently / Through darkness of your chateau. / Our hearts'll be beating fairly / Anxious, whispering low. In the cave of your...»