I’m no impostor — I’m home.
I’m no servant — I brought no leaven.
I’m — your passion, your Sunday rest,
Your seventh day, your seventh heaven.
They hung millstones round my neck,
On earth, they flung me a penny.
— Lover! — Surely you know?
I am your swallow — Psyche!
Не самозванка — я пришла домой,
И не служанка — мне не надо хлеба.
Я — страсть твоя, воскресный отдых твой,
Твой день седьмой, твоё седьмое небо.
Там на земле мне подавали грош
И жерновов навешали на шею.
— Возлюбленный! — Ужель не узнаёшь?
Я ласточка твоя — Психея!
«I still believe that I shall return to life, / shall wake early one day, at dawn, / in the light, early hours, in the transparent dew, / where the branches are studded with drops, / and a small lake stands in the sundew’s bowl, / reflecting the swift flight of the clouds. / And, inclin...»
«To My Sister / / I dreamt of the old house / where I spent my childhood years, / and the heart, as before, finds / comfort, and love, and warmth. / / I dreamt of Christmas, the tree, / and my sister laughing out loud, / from morning, the rosy windows / sparkle tenderly. / ...»
«With both knees pressed down on the still, / Mouth fixed like a fish’s to the pane, / I breathe, ant then breathe in again: / So, clinging to life, a body will / Suck from a greyish sack: so the heart bounds / Insistently: it’s time, it’s time to go! / The firmament is heavy on the...»
«To Faina Grigorievna Ranevskaya I forgive you almost all your sins / Only two of them I can’t allow: / Poetry you whisper to yourself, / And you kiss out loud. / / Sin, have fun, and blossom with the years. / Only heed my mother advice — / A kiss, my darling, isn’t for the ears...»