How many of earth’s oceans I’ve sailed, oceans
ancient, gay, foam-covered;
how many matchless nights and days
have gone guiding caravans across the steppes...
How we laughed, then,
my Muse and I, free...
Rhymes flew together like birds,
so many — I don’t dare remember how many.
Only love is left, calling
like the strings of an angel’s harp,
like a thin needle stabbing the heart
with Heaven’s blue lights.
Only you are left. I’ve seen,
my eyes open, the night’s sun,
and you are all I live for,
work for, fight for.
In this restless hell of mine — yes,
you are the pilgrims’ Jerusalem.
I should mention your name
with a seraphim’s tongue.
В скольких земных океанах я плыл,
Древних, веселых и пенных,
Сколько в степях караваны водил
Дней и ночей несравненных…
Как мы смеялись в былые года
С вольною Музой моею…
Рифмы, как птицы, слетались тогда,
Сколько — и вспомнить не смею.
Только любовь мне осталась, струной
Ангельской арфы взывая,
Душу пронзая, как тонкой иглой,
Синими светами рая.
Ты мне осталась одна. Наяву
Видевший солнце ночное,
Лишь для тебя на земле я живу,
Делаю дело земное.
Да, ты в моей беспокойной судьбе —
Ерусалим пилигримов.
Надо бы мне говорить о тебе
На языке серафимов.
«Night: a street, a streetlight; drugstore; / A meaningless dim luminance. / Go live tor twenty-five years more — / Nothing will change. There's no way out. You'll die, and start again, while all / Recurs, identically: the night, / The chill ripples on the canal. / The drugstore, the s...»
«Dear Vova / Hallo there / I don't lead a bad / "life", / But if you've not married yet / Then don't take a wife.»
«An impish little Monkey, / A Goat, a Bear, / And their confrere, / A most judicious Donkey, / Resolved to play a string quartet in G. / Supplied with score, viola, two ашddles, and a bass, / They sat down in a shady place / To charm the whole world with their artistry: / They scrap...»
«King Lion, irritated by reports / Of corruption in the courts / And grave abuses of authority. / Set out to tour his realms and see what he could see. He chanced upon a Peasant who had caught a mess / Of fish, and put them in a pan to fry. / The poor things, sensing that their end w'as ni...»