Strait the passage, slender, long,
Reaching depths where visions throng.
Sinking down, you turn your eyes
Where an ice-wrought castle lies.
When from here you sink below,
Twinkling shafts of colour glow;
Someone's peeping eyes are seen —
Adamant and moonstone sheen.
There's the snowy opal; here
Budding emeralds appear.
Hearken — in these castles be
Flutes and lutes and dainty glee.
Whose may be the feet that don
Crystal shoon you gaze upon?
Ice in pillars, lustre, snow,
Dainty, flaky, pearly glow.
Strait the passage, slender, long,
Reaching realms where splendours throng;
But to find the path you need,
You must set your foot with heed.
Тонкий, узкий, длинный ход
В глубь земли мечту ведёт.
Только спустишься туда,
Встретишь замки изо льда.
Чуть сойдёшь отсюда вниз,
Разноцветности зажглись,
Смотрит чей-то светлый глаз,
Лунный камень и алмаз.
Там опал снежит, а тут
Расцветает изумруд.
И услышишь в замках тех
Флейты, лютни, нежный смех.
И увидишь чьих-то ног
Там хрустальный башмачок.
Льды, колонны, свет, снега,
Нежность, снежность, жемчуга.
Тонкий, узкий, длинный ход
В этот светлый мир ведёт.
Но, чтоб знать туда пути,
Нужно бережно идти.
«My verse written so early in my life / I didn't know I was a poet yet, / My verse which burst off, like drops from a fountain, / Or sparks from rocket jets; And burst like tiny demons through the holy / Sanctum where sleep and incense come together; / My verse that went on about death and...»
«How's life with the other woman? / Simpler, yeah? A stroke of oars / by a long coastline, and even / memory of me unmoors as a floating island (in the / sky, not on the waters)! Poor / spirits, souls! You should be solely / sisters and not paramours. How's life with an ordinary / ...»
«Chénier went up to meet the guillotine, / And I'm alive. That is a dreadful sin. / There are times that steel over everyone. / He is no bard who sings as bullets spin. / He is no father, trembling at the gate, / Whose arms rip battle-armor off his son. / There are times when the sun ...»
«Ah, longing for the homeland's air... / A languor long exposed as hooey! / I absolutely do not care / about where I am absolutely alone. Nor down what street of stone / I shlep a simple shopping basket / to a house that doesn't know it's home / any more than hospital o...»