9
With a red brush
The mountain-ash burned:
The leaves were falling
And I was born.
Hundreds of belltowers
Argued at least.
It was the Saturday:
John the Baptist.
And in my teeth now
I want to crush
The hot ashberry's
Bitter brush.
9
Красною кистью
Рябина зажглась.
Падали листья,
Я родилась.
Спорили сотни
Колоколов.
День был субботний:
Иоанн Богослов.
Мне и доныне
Хочется грызть
Жаркой рябины
Горькую кисть.
____
1. Облака — вокруг...
2. Из рук моих — нерукотворный град...
3. Мимо ночных башен...
4. Настанет день — печальный, говорят!..
5. Над городом, отвергнутым Петром...
6. Над синевою подмосковных рощ...
7. Семь холмов — как семь колоколов!..
8. — Москва! — Какой огромный...
9. Красною кистью...
«The secrets under Maya’s garments / My hand is timid to reveal. / Reflected world of wonders, charming / In your large pupil — seems surreal. And combinations intertwining / Spell love, show parts of city street — / The neon lights and Ether shining / Spring’s verve and thaw it ...»
«Oh peaceful hours of precious solitude! / Epiphanies I treasure like prized grain — / Which sprouts from my soul’s dark terrain / From inspiration’s seed to charmed and verdant fruit. Souls' torments in the days gone by / And wine — set heart aflame; / While now sole remains / ...»
«He hung without swaying / Thin belt on branch's bend. / His hat — a black remainder / Marred freshly combed sand. / Left palm, pierced by the nails, / Of still, yet stiffened hand. The sun ascended slowly / For noon its horses set, / He faced the morning Helios / In somber tet-a-...»
«Blizzard wails past my window, / Covers my porch with mounds of snow. / Diddle time away, cast shadows — / From the wedding ring I wore. My old cat makes new discovery — / Chairs don’t purr. So he is still. / Blind blizzard in old livery — / Icy staff raps like a bill. Winter n...»