Maximilian Voloshin
To Maya

Over her head and rising higher
The flowers' sheaves, descends from hill,
She neared and stared...
                        Who are you?
                                              — Maya.
I am so grateful that you're here.
There — madness in your eyes. The name is —
Immortal daydream of the world.
Intoxicated by your phantasms,
My head, by sultry sun, is whirled.
Come in and be.
                           Was from the fortune
Expecting news. And you brought in
Sunflowers and gorse's branches —
The torrid flowers of noon.
Let me descry you... Straight and glossy
Wave of your hair the forehead veiled.
The windstorm's radiance is racing
To curve up right above your head.
The smile your childish glance has narrowed.
Unchildish sadness touched your lips.
And by the chain of little diamonds
Above the eyebrow came sweat drips.
The goldish suntan graced its shadows
Upon your cheeks, touched by the sun.
Within these flowers... you ran...
All over in the white flame's halos...
Who are you? Child? Tsarevna? Page?
I am embracing the idea
Of you - the earth's noon mirage,
Illusion, sweet deception... —
                                              maya.

Translated by Maya Jouravel