Marina Tsvetaeva
George. 2. O heaviness of success!..

O heaviness of success!
Slight of victory!
George, you cry,
Like a beautiful lady
You pale at the deed
Of your two
Suddenly alien to you
Hands.

Horse is squeamish of the serpent,
You are squeamish of the voice
Of victory. Like heavy oil
The blood pours.
The dragon sleeps.
Sated for the rest of your life
You are.

The sun is eclipsed
By the lifted mantle.
Union of child's bashfulness
With the dignity of
Horse.
From the saddle —
Into the sky —
Bush.
Fastidious sorrow
Of mouth.

Horse is squeamish of the serpent,
You are squeamish of the present
Of the tsar - her engagement fire.
Of the church frankincense;
Strict — harsh —
In the pitiless
Roar of
Pipes.

Trumpet! Trumpet!
It's not long left to hear.
The tender victory reed - away.
The one out-piped away
Drooped - went quiet.
And cloudy — in height! —
Post.

Bow, bow,
Obedient grass!
Reddened under the slap of glory -
Pales. — Home, trumpeters! — He sleeps.
Until the judgment trumpet —
Is full.

Translated by Ilya Shambat