3
You are going — west of the sun now.
You will see there — evening light.
You are going — west of the sun and
snow will cover up your tracks.
Past my windows — passionless
you are going in quiet snow.
Saint of God, beautiful, you
are the quiet light of my soul
but I do not long for your spirit.
Your way is indestructible.
And your hand is pale from holy
kisses, no nail of mine.
By your name I shall not call you.
My hands shall not stretch after you
to your holy waxen face I shall
only bow — from afar
standing under the slow falling snow, I shall
fall to my knees — in the snow.
In your holy name I shall only
kiss that evening snow
where, with majestic pace you
go by in tomb-like quiet,
the light of quiet — holy glory
of it: Keeper of my soul.
3
Ты проходишь на Запад Солнца,
Ты увидишь вечерний свет,
Ты проходишь на Запад Солнца,
И метель заметает след.
Мимо окон моих — бесстрастный —
Ты пройдёшь в снеговой тиши,
Божий праведник мой прекрасный,
Свете тихий моей души.
Я на душу твою — не зарюсь!
Нерушима твоя стезя.
В руку, бледную от лобзаний,
Не вобью своего гвоздя.
И по имени не окликну,
И руками не потянусь.
Восковому святому лику
Только издали поклонюсь.
И, под медленным снегом стоя,
Опущусь на колени в снег,
И во имя твоё святое,
Поцелую вечерний снег. —
Там, где поступью величавой
Ты прошёл в гробовой тиши,
Свете тихий — святыя славы —
Вседержитель моей души.
«Night in my own vast town — night / I slip the sleeping house — take flight / Others take me for daughter, bride / Yet I know only — night. / The July wind brushes my path before / A song from someone’s window — hardly at all / And now the wind will blow — till dawn / T...»
«You imagined me. Such isn’t in the world, / Such in the world can’t be. / Neither the doctor cannot heal, nor the poet, — / The shadow of the ghost the day and night is worrying you. / We met in that incredible year, / When the forces of the world had also dried out. / Everything w...»
«There is a beauty in your wine's dark stream, / In wholesome bread that's rising in the oven, / A woman that you see in anguished dreams / And joyously possess once waiting's over. But how to stake a claim on sunsets' tint, / When silence's joined by an unearthly mercy, / The sky is slowl...»
«O beautiful the wine in love with us! / The good bread in the oven — for us baking! / And that woman, who gave torment and fuss. / Whom now we can enjoy — for just the taking! But what to do with this rose sunset over / A sky becoming cold as hues disperse. / Where silence and unearth...»