Magdalene
3
I will not say a thing about your wayward
path, for now you are fine, my dear.
I was barefoot, but you shod me
with cascades of hair —
and tears.
Nor will I ever ask you at what cost
you bought these fragrances and oils.
I was naked, but you engulfed
me like a wave — you formed
my roof and walls.
I will caress your naked body now —
softer than water and lower than grass.
I was upright, but you forced me down
and warped me with your tenderness.
Set aside this flax and make my swaddling
by tearing out a patch of hair.
Anointer! What use to me is ointment?
Your very body washed me
like a wave.
Магдалина
3
О путях твоих пытать не буду,
Милая! — ведь всё сбылось.
Я был бос, а ты меня обула
Ливнями волос —
И — слёз.
Не спрошу тебя, какой ценою
Эти куплены масла́.
Я был наг, а ты меня волною
Тела — как стеною
Обнесла.
Наготу твою перстами трону
Тише вод и ниже трав.
Я был прям, а ты меня наклону
Нежности наставила, припав.
В волосах своих мне яму вырой,
Спеленай меня без льна.
— Мироносица! К чему мне миро?
Ты меня омыла
Как волна.
«Goldfinch, friend, I'll cock my head — / let's check the world out, just me and you: / this winter's day pricks like chaff; / does it sting your eyes too? Boat-tailed, feathers yellow-black, / sopped in colour beneath your beak, / do you get, you goldfinch you, / just how you flaunt i...»
«I can’t submit myself to man. / Who’d choose to be a slave? / We judge each other all life long — / and then? A lonely grave. I can’t submit myself to God, / because I love Him so. / For God has set me on this road — / where else am I to go? I tear the nets that bind mankind ...»
«No, I will never make my peace. / There’s truth in all my curses. / I won’t forgive, won’t throw myself / into the iron embraces. Like everyone, I’ll die, I’ll kill — / ruin myself, like everyone — / but I refuse to stain my soul / by justifying what goes on. When death i...»
«For many days along the river Ocean / With open sail, towards the blurry East / To predetermined land we are in motion, / The singing waves get tired in the mist. The eye of ending day is peeping crimson / And now far away we see the sight / Of sleeping land. And shading to horizon / Th...»