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.
«Oh my dear maple, frozen stiff and bare, / Why do you stand bending in the blizzard there? / / Have you seen a vision? Have you heard a babble? / Just like you are out for an idle ramble. / / Like a tipsy warden, walking on the roadside, / You have stuck in snowdrift, hit by burnin...»
«There’s still the twilight of the night. / The world’s so young in its proceeding, / That there are countless stars outside / And each one, like the day, is bright / And if the Earth could so decide, / She’d sleep through Easter in delight, / Hearing the Psalter reading. There’s...»
«Deep in Siberia's mines, let naught / Subdue your proud and patient spirit. / Your crushing toil and lofty thought / Shall not be wasted — do not fear it. Misfortune's sister, hope sublime, / From sombre dungeon pain will banish; / Joy will awake and sorrow vanish... / 'Twill come, th...»
«Fire and rope, bullet and axe — / These faithful servants at our backs. / In every drop there slept a flood, / From every stone a mountain lloomed. / And in each trampled twig / Black-handed forests sighed and moaned. Falsehood gorged itself from our plates, / Bells sounded only ...»