1
Tower-bell striking
There in the Kremlin.
Where on the earth is,
Where —
Fortress of mine,
Meekness of mine,
Valor of mine,
Holy of mine.
Tower-bell striking,
Left-behind striking.
Where on the earth is —
My
Home,
My — dream,
My — laugh,
My — light,
Of narrow soles — a print.
As if a hand
Cast down the striking —
Into the night.
— My downcast one!
1
Башенный бой
Где-то в Кремле.
Где на земле,
Где —
Крепость моя,
Кротость моя,
Доблесть моя,
Святость моя.
Башенный бой.
Брошенный бой.
Где на земле —
Мой
Дом,
Мой — сон,
Мой — смех,
Мой — свет,
Узких подошв — след.
Точно рукой
Сброшенный в ночь —
Бой.
— Брошенный мой!
«You cannot breathe, the ground with maggots seethes, / And not a single star can speak; / But — God can see — there’s music up above us: / The station trembles with Aonian song, / And ripped in shreds with locomotive whistles / The screeching air resolves again. The enormous park ...»
«I have come back to my city, familiar to the point of tears, / To the blood in my veins, to my childhood’s swollen tonsils. / You have come back here — so swallow up quickly / The cod-liver-oil of the Leningrad river-lamps: Quickly make up your mind to the short December day / When the ...»
«For the rattling valour of future centuries, / For the highborn tribe of people, / I am deprived of the cups on the pyres of my fathers, / Of their pleasures, of their marks of esteem. Like a wolfhound the century leaps on my shoulders, / But my skin is not the skin of a wolf. / Stuff me ...»
«Joyously take, from the palm of my hand / this gift--some honey and some sun, / as the bees of Persephone command us. Not to be loosened, the unmoored boat; / not to be heard, steps of shadow on fur; / not to be overcome, the thick fear of the forest in which we live. We have only kiss...»