And perhaps, the finest victory
Over time and gravity —
Is to pass, without leaving a trace,
Is to pass, without leaving a shadow
On the walls...
Finer perhaps — to exact
By refusal? To erase myself from mirrors?
Like: Lermontov moving through the Caucuses
To steal, without disturbing the rock-faces.
And perhaps — the finest amusement
Given the finger of Sebastian Bach
Would be not to trouble the organ’s echo?
To collapse, leaving no dust
For the urn...
Finer perhaps — to exact
By fraud? To write myself out of the latitudes?
Like: Time moving through an ocean
To steal, without disturbing the waters...
А может, лучшая победа
Над временем и тяготеньем —
Пройти, чтоб не оставить следа,
Пройти, чтоб не оставить тени
На стенах…
Может быть — отказом
Взять? Вычеркнуться из зеркал?
Так: Лермонтовым по Кавказу
Прокрасться, не встревожив скал.
А может — лучшая потеха
Перстом Себастиана Баха
Органного не тронуть эха?
Распасться, не оставив праха
На урну…
Может быть — обманом
Взять? Выписаться из широт?
Так: Временем как океаном
Прокрасться, не встревожив вод…
«From rooftops, tears seeped into pipes / and to the river’s arm drew streaks, / while lips, suspended from the skies, / continued sucking on stone teats. The sky, relaxed, could now see clearly: / along the sea's resplendent channel, / the sweating cameleer drove wearily / The Neva’...»
«The violin was panicking, imploring / and suddenly burst into tears, / so child-like and pesky / that the drum couldn't stand it: / "All right, all right, all right!" / It got weary, couldn't wait till the violin finished, / slipped out onto the gleaming Kuznetsky / and took flight. / ...»
«The restaurant was rouge from the electricity. / Chairs were soaked with the flesh of the feminine heap. / When the insulted conductor rushed in and explicitly / commanded musicians to weep. And, right away, the trumpet — swinging — / smacked the sated muzzle with a handful of copper te...»
«The moon is emerging. / It going to be here / soon. / Now, it hangs in the air, full and stark. / That is probably God, / with a divine / silver spoon, / groping in the fish-soup of stars. »