Soon from swallows — into sorcerers!
Youth! We will say farewell before then...
We will stand in the wind soul to soul!
My tan one! My sister console!
With a skirt of raspberry flare,
You my youth! My dove you are
Tan! Waste of my soul!
You my youth! Dance and console!
Wash me with a shawl of azure,
My insane one! We have played with you
For a plenty! Dance a while and spar!
My gold — farewell — amber!
For a reason your arms touch I,
Like to a lover I say goodbye.
Torn away from depths within my breast —
My youth! Go to someone else!
Скоро уж из ласточек — в колдуньи!
Молодость! Простимся накануне…
Постоим с тобою на ветру!
Смуглая моя! Утешь сестру!
Полыхни малиновою юбкой,
Молодость моя! Моя голубка
Смуглая! Раззор моей души!
Молодость моя! Утешь, спляши!
Полосни лазоревою шалью,
Шалая моя! Пошалевали
Досыта с тобой! — Спляши, ошпарь!
Золотце моё — прощай — янтарь!
Неспроста руки твоей касаюсь,
Как с любовником с тобой прощаюсь.
Вырванная из грудных глубин —
Молодость моя! — Иди к другим!
____
Молодость. 1. Молодость моя! Моя чужая...
Молодость. 2. Скоро уж из ласточек — в колдуньи!..
«One fine day / a tiny laddie / came / and asked his dad: / “Could you tell me, / Daddy, / what is good / and what is bad?” / All his daddy said / ...»
«Over dull grey wastes of water / winds are massing darkening storm-clouds. / There ‘twixt clouds and surging sea-waves / proudly soars the Stormy Petrel, / darting sheer like jet-black lightening. / Now he skims the foam with wing-tip, / now — and arrow shooting cloudward, — / he...»
«There, where the sunrise is sprinkling / Water of red where the cabbage bed sits. / The small maple nuzzling his mother / Impatiently sucks her green tits.»
«Snow gone, mounds of clay are drying. / Mold of mushrooms on the foothills. / On the plains the wind is dancing — / Like a gentle small red donkey. Smells of pine and pussy willow... / Heaven sometimes sighs — and dozes. / And a sparrow reads his psalter / At the pulpit of the fore...»