Fierce valley,
Valley of love.
Hands: white with salt.
Mouth: black with blood.
A left-breasted Amazon’s
Shaft just missed my temple.
Yes — my head on a stone —
Life, who could love you?
To hell with my plans! To hell with my lies!
Here: as a lark, there: as honeysuckle,
Here: by the handfuls: all pitched-out along
With my savageries — and silences,
With my rainbows glimpsed through tears,
With my pilfering, my prevarications...
Life, yes, you are a darling!
And greedy too!
You leave your bite-mark
On my right shoulder.
Chirping in darkness...
With the birds I rouse myself!
To leave my own cheerful mark
On your chronicle.
Лютая юдоль,
Дольняя любовь.
Руки: свет и соль.
Губы: смоль и кровь.
Левогрудый гром
Лбом подслушан был.
Так — о камень лбом —
Кто тебя любил?
Бог с замыслами! Бог с вымыслами!
Вот: жаворонком, вот: жимолостью,
Вот: пригоршнями: вся выплеснута
С моими дикостями — и тихостями,
С моими радугами заплаканными,
С подкрадываньями, забарматываньями…
Милая ты жизнь!
Жадная ещё!
Ты запомни вжим
В правое плечо.
Щебеты во тьмах…
С птицами встаю!
Мой весёлый вмах
В летопись твою.
«Three songs there be that thrill the human breast — / Three songs with human joy and sorrow laden. / And one of them is happier than the rest — / The song a mother sings beside a cradle. The second by a mother, too, is sung — / Caressing icy cheeks with mourning fingers, / She sings...»
«There was a lad who once lived in our village, / He had a youthful bride with raven hair, / That self-same year when she and he turned twenty / Came war, and tore him from his bride so fair. The hero’s bride is now a hero’s widow. / Her hair is grey, her eyes have lost their fire; / T...»
«“Happiness — tarry; say whither you fly?” / “Into a loving heart.” / “Youth, to return — whither haste you and why?” / “Into a loving heart.” / “Courage and strength — tell me, whither and where? / “Into a loving heart.” / “And whither haste YOU, O sorrow an...»
«Even some of those who have at best / Five short minutes left to live — no more, / Toil and moil without a minute’s rest / As if they had some hundred years in store, While snowy peaks, coeval with Creation, / In silence stern regarding petty Man, / Stand frozen still in mournful expe...»