I have forgotten what is in my hands:
A heart, a hat, or a cane?
In the gardens of the Lord
Grape bunches ripen.
Ahead the cry: "don't,"
Behind: "return."
All that is quiet is the path
Leading upwards.
Shouldn't I follow it?
Maybe, if no sin is committed,
On the azure path
The soul will become a bird.
Позабыл, что в руках:
Сердце, шляпа иль трость?..
Зреет в Отчих садах
Виноградная гроздь.
Впереди крик: «нельзя»,
Позади: «воротись».
И тиха лишь стезя,
Уходящая ввысь.
Не по ней ли идти?
Может быть, не греша,
На лазурном пути
Станет птицей душа.
«The leaves are scattered above your tombstone / And winter's smell. / Listen, the dead one, listen, O dear one: / You're my own still. You laugh! — Moon is high - in the roadside cabin / Full of charm. / My — so undoubted and unchanging — / Like this arm. To hospital doors with ...»
« Here's your roses — pull your hands toward them — / Having gone farther than the sea, dear friend! / My dear friend, having with you born out / The most precious treasures of the land. I am robbed and deceived — There's no letter, / No ring in my memory! / How the features are...»
«You're happy? You won't say! Barely! / Better let go! / You kissed too many, I do think, / Therefrom, sorrow. All heroines of Shakespeare's tragedies / In you I see. / Nobody saved you, you the young / Tragic lady. You are so tired of repeating / Love's charm! / Eloquent, the pig ...»
«Under caresses of an ivy / Plaid I recalled yesterday's dream. / Whose victory? Who's been defeated? / What has it been? Rethinking everything once more, / Torturing myself once again. / In this, for which no word I know, / Had love ever been? Who was the hunter? Who — the hunted? ...»