[after S. Galkin]
The autumn world is sensibly ordered
And inhabited.
Enter, be quiet in the heart of things,
Like this maple.
And if dust covers you momentarily,
Don't be alarmed.
Let the dew from dawn fields
Wash your leaves.
When thunder breaks out over the world
And a windstorm rages,
Your slender trunk is forced to bend
Towards the ground.
And even falling into a fatal weariness
From such torments,
Be silent, my friend, like this
Autumn tree.
Don't forget, it will straighten again,
It isn't bowed,
For the autumn maple is made wiser
By the earth's wisdom.
(Из С. Галкина)
Осенний мир осмысленно устроен
И населен.
Войди в него и будь душой спокоен,
Как этот клен.
И если пыль на миг тебя покроет,
Не помертвей.
Пусть на заре листы твои умоет
Роса полей.
Когда ж гроза над миром разразится
И ураган,
Они заставят до земли склониться
Твой тонкий стан.
Но даже впав в смертельную истому
От этих мук,
Подобно древу осени простому,
Смолчи, мой друг.
Не забывай, что выпрямится снова,
Не искривлен,
Но умудрен от разума земного,
Осенний клен.
«On pavements I will pound them out / Of sun and glass combined; / In winter, let the loft resound / As mildewed corners read my lines. The attic will itself declaim, / With bow to wintry window frame, / And up to ledge and roof will rise / A leap of wonders, woes, and signs. A month an...»
«My age, my beast, who can / Gaze into your pupils / And with his blood cement / The vertebrae of two centuries? Blood the Builder gushes / From the throat of earthly things, / The parasite must tremble / On the threshold of new days. A creature drags its backbone / As long as it's al...»
«They don't wait for letters, / For a letter they wait. / A shred of rag / Around a braid / Of glue. Within — a word. / And happiness. And this - is all. Thus they don't wait for joy, / Thus they wait for the end: / A soldier's salute / And into the chest — lead / Three pieces...»
«I opened my veins. Unstoppably / life spurts out with no remedy. / Now I set out bowls and plates. / Every bowl will be shallow. / Every plate will be small. / And overflowing their rims, / into the black earth, to nourish / the rushes unstoppably / without...»