8
People shouted on the street,
Smoke flew from the bakery place.
I remembered the ruby mouth
Of a street singer with narrow face.
In the dark kerchief with flowers —
Honored by your civility
You were drowned in the crowd
Of praying ones at Sergei-Trinity,
Pray for me, beautiful one,
Sorrowful one and mad,
How the forests will crown you as
The lashing mother of god.
8
На базаре кричал народ,
Пар вылетал из булочной.
Я запомнила алый рот
Узколицей певицы уличной.
В тёмном — с цветиками — платке,
— Милости удостоиться
Ты, потупленная, в толпе
Богомолок у Сергий-Троицы,
Помолись за меня, краса
Грустная и бесовская,
Как поставят тебя леса
Богородицей хлыстовскою.
____
Ахматовой. 1. О, Муза плача, прекраснейшая из муз!..
Ахматовой. 2. Охватила голову и стою...
Ахматовой. 3. Ещё один огромный взмах...
Ахматовой. 4. Имя ребёнка — Лев...
Ахматовой. 5. Сколько спутников и друзей!..
Ахматовой. 6. Не отстать тебе! Я — острожник...
Ахматовой. 7. Ты, срывающая покров...
Ахматовой. 8. На базаре кричал народ...
Ахматовой. 9. Златоустой Анне — всея Руси...
Ахматовой. 10. У тонкой проволоки над волной овсов...
Ахматовой. 11. Ты солнце в выси мне застишь...
Ахматовой. 12. Руки даны мне — протягивать каждому обе...
«The cold wind from a lagoon. / The silent coffins of gondolas. / I, in that night — so ill, and young so — / Had stretched myself against a lion. There on tower, with a song irony, / The giants tolls in that night hour. / Mark sank in the lagoon, all moonlit, / Iconostas, patterned...»
«There fades the boom of life, quite teasing, / And back is the affairs' tide. / But wind through a black velvet's singing / About the future and somewhere's life. Where shall I wake? In other country? / Not in this gloomy land, isn't it? / And won't I be just abundant / To recollect thi...»
«All on the earth will die — and youth and mother, / Wife will betray you, leave once faithful friend, / But you learn to enjoy the bliss another — / Look in a mirror of the polar land. Get on your bark, sail to the distant Pole / In walls of ice — and bit by bit forget / How they l...»
«I’m sick, for sure: deep darkness holds my heart, / I’m bored with the people and the stories, / And dream of treasures of the kingdoms, glories, / And yataghans, all covered with blood. It seems to me – and this is no fraud – / A Tartar, squint, was one of my begetters, / That fi...»