12
His friends — do not bother him!
His servants — do not bother him!
From his face it was evident deemed:
Not from this world does my kingdom come.
Eternal snowstorms circled the veins
Hunched-over shoulders bent from the wings,
In singing cut, into baked-over flame
He let his soul go like a swan.
Fall then, O fall then, copper heavy!
Wings are ordained correctly: To fly!
Lips, that have shouted the word: Reply! —
They know, that this is not there — to die!
He drinks the dawn, drinks the sea —
Revels in full. — Don't serve the requiem!
Of one who forever ordered: Be! —
There is enough bread left to feed him!
Други его — не тревожьте его!
Слуги его — не тревожьте его!
Было так ясно на лике его:
Царство моё не от мира сего.
Вещие вьюги кружили вдоль жил,
Плечи сутулые гнулись от крыл,
В певчую прорезь, в запёкшийся пыл —
Лебедем душу свою упустил!
Падай же, падай же, тяжкая медь!
Крылья изведали право: лететь!
Губы, кричавшие слово: ответь! —
Знают, что этого нет — умереть!
Зори пьёт, море пьёт — в полную сыть
Бражничает. — Панихид не служить!
У навсегда повелевшего: быть! —
Хлеба достанет его накормить!
«Confusion III You approached me, smiling mildly, / As by civility’s demand, / Then, half tenderly and half idly, / With a kiss you brushed my hand — / And the faces, mysterious, ancient, / Cast their gazes on me forthright… / All ten years of my trepidations, / Each and every s...»
«The feather grazed the carriage roof. / I looked into his eyes. / The heart was aching, yet aloof / As to the reason why. The windless sky had the evening wedged, / Grief fettered it to the brink, / The Bois de Boulogne resembled a sketch / In an album, in India ink. The smells of petr...»
«With sadness words cannot describe, / Out in the garden, music played. / The frozen oysters on the plate / Smelled pungently of sea and brine. He gently touched my evening dress / And said: “I am a loyal friend!” — / And yet, the contact of his hand / Felt nothing like a true care...»
«We are all heavy-drinkers and whores, / What a joyless, miserable crowd! / There are flowers and birds on the walls, / And the birds all grieve for a cloud. You are smoking your old black pipe, / And the smoke looks strange over it. / The skirt that I’m wearing feels tight, / But I ho...»