Pavillions spread over the square,
The maple leaves kiss the stars.
It's night — a celebration there,
Merriment and festivity in the park.
But when a pyrotechnist hurls
A silvery light from tree-tops to sky,
Poet, don't put your trust
In the night's fantastic bursts.
The rocket will fly off and die,
Its fiery sparks will grow dim...
But a poet's heart shines forever
In the pure depths of a poem.
Расступились на площади зданья,
Листья клена целуют звезду.
Нынче ночью - большое гулянье,
И веселье, и праздник в саду.
Но когда пиротехник из рощи
Бросит в небо серебряный свет,
Фантастическим выстрелам ночи
Не вполне доверяйся, поэт.
Улетит и погаснет ракета,
Потускнеют огней вороха...
Вечно светит лишь сердце поэта
В целомудренной бездне стиха.
«Yes, I am charming. / This phantom shape, / this velvet shimmer — / merely two wings. Where do I come from? / Where am I off to? / Here on a frail flower / for a breath I pause. Free and fickle, / how long will I linger? / I lift my wings — so! — / and flit away.»
«Under my own window / White is birch’s hue — / Snowy blanket-shadow, / Silver patterned too. On its fluffy branches / With a snowy hem / Tassels’ blossom blanches — / Fringe’s icy gem. Standing, birch is yearning, / Silent, sleepy spire, / Falling snow is burning / In i...»
«The restaurants on hot spring evenings / Lie under a dense and savage air. / Foul drafts and hoots from drunken revelers / Contaminate the thoroughfare. / / Above the dusty lanes of suburbia / Above the tedium of bungalows / A pretzel sign begilds a bakery / And children screech for...»
«In the church choir a girl was singing About all the weary people in a strange land About all the ships far out on oceans About all who were forgetting the joys at hand. High in the steeple her voice was singing, A thin ray turning her shoulder white . From the dark everyone watched a...»