2
Useless with eyes like nails to
penetrate the black soil.
As true as a nail in the mind
you are not here, not here.
It's useless turning my eyes
and fumbling round the whole sky.
Rain. Pails of rain-water. But
you are not there, not there.
Neither one of the two. Bone is
too much bone. And spirit is too much spirit.
Where is the real you? All of you?
Too much here. Too much there.
And I won’t exchange you for sand
and steam. You took me for kin,
and I won’t give you up for a corpse
and a ghost: a here, and a there.
It’s not you, not you, not you,
however much priests intone
that death and life are one:
God’s too much God, worm — too much worm!
You are one thing, corpse and spirit.
We won’t give you up for the smoke of
censers
or flowers
on graves
If you are anywhere, it’s here in
us: and we honour best all those who
have gone by despising division.
It is all of you that has gone.
2
Напрасно глазом — как гвоздём,
Пронизываю чернозём:
В сознании — верней гвоздя:
Здесь нет тебя — и нет тебя.
Напрасно в ока оборот
Обшариваю небосвод:
— Дождь! дождевой воды бадья.
Там нет тебя — и нет тебя.
Нет, никоторое из двух:
Кость слишком — кость, дух слишком — дух.
Где — ты? где — тот? где — сам? где — весь?
Там — слишком там, здесь — слишком здесь.
Не подменю тебя песком
И па́ром. Взявшего — родством
За труп и призрак не отдам.
Здесь — слишком здесь, там — слишком там.
Не ты — не ты — не ты — не ты.
Что́ бы ни пели нам попы,
Что смерть есть жизнь и жизнь есть смерть, —
Бог — слишком Бог, червь — слишком червь.
На труп и призрак — неделим!
Не отдадим тебя за дым
Кадил,
Цветы
Могил.
И если где-нибудь ты есть —
Так — в нас. И лучшая вам честь,
Ушедшие — презреть раскол:
Совсем ушёл. Со всем — ушёл.
«I don't know if you're alive or dead. / Can you on earth be sought, / Or only when the sunsets fade / Be mourned serenely in my thought? All is for you: the daily prayer, / The sleepless heat at night, / And of my verses, the white / Flock, and of my eyes, the blue fire. No-one was mor...»
«I'll leave your quiet yard and your white house — / Let life be empty and with light complete. / I'll sing the glory to you in my verse / Like not one woman has sung glory yet. / And that dear girlfriend you remember / In heaven you created for her sight, / I'm trading product that is ...»
«I have not heard the tales of Ossian, / I have not tasted age-old wine — / why then do I seem to see a field / and Scotland's murderous moon? And in the sinister silence I seem to hear / the roll-call of the raven and the harp, / and, streaming in the wind, the scarves of men-at-arms / ...»
«For joy’s sake, from my hands, / take some honey and some sun, / as Persephone’s bees told us. Not to be freed, the unmoored boat. / Not to be heard, fur-booted shadows. / Not to be silenced, life’s dark terrors. Now we only have kisses, / dry and bristling like bees, / that die ...»