I sing when throat is moist, and soul is dry and cold,
And when my eye is damp, and mind does not dissemble:
How healthy is the wine? And will the wineskins hold?
And what about Colchian’s bloody coursing tremble?
Demure’s my breast, it has no words – it is not bold:
My song has ceased already – lips but breaths assemble,
My ear is scabbard-sheathed, my head is deaf and old.
It is a selfless song – itself its merit’s stitch:
To friends it is a joy, to foes it is but pitch.
It is a one-eyed song, and from the moss it grows,
A one-voiced gift that stems from hunter’s occupation,
This song is sung aloft by horseman as he goes,
Who freely makes with in- and exhalation,
Who canters onwards now in truth and jubilation
To bear the young to wedding feast, released from woes.
Пою, когда гортань сыра, душа — суха,
И в меру влажен взор, и не хитрит сознанье:
Здорово ли вино? Здоровы ли меха?
Здорово ли в крови Колхиды колыханье?
И грудь стесняется, — без языка — тиха:
Уже я не пою — поет мое дыханье —
И в горных ножнах слух, и голова глуха...
Песнь бескорыстная — сама себе хвала:
Утеха для друзей и для врагов — смола.
Песнь одноглазая, растущая из мха, —
Одноголосый дар охотничьего быта, —
Которую поют верхом и на верхах,
Держа дыханье вольно и открыто,
Заботясь лишь о том, чтоб честно и сердито
На свадьбу молодых доставить без греха.
«Funfair, henhouse of pleasure, / Barn of beguiling life, / Holiday trough of passion, / Fiery furnace of existence! / Here, spiked Red Army helmets / Drift by in a pensive stream, / With them ladies of the world, / Untroubled by the city’s din! / Here pleasure crooks its finger, / ...»
«The circus shines, like a shield, / Finger trills, moodily Pipes, unites folk! / Gentle, small-faced, a girl, / Spanish-looking, with flowers in her hair, / Radiant as an angel, whirls, / Waltzes a Cossack dance. / Like a white seabird / She stands in the thick smoke, / Then, her gui...»
«Animals do not sleep. At night / They stand over the world like a stone wall. The cow’s retreating head / Rustles the straw with its smooth horns, / The rocky brow a wedge / Between age-old cheekbones, / And the mute eyes / Turning sluggishly. There’s more intelligence and beauty i...»
«The signs of the Zodiac are fading / Above the wide expanse of fields. / And the animal, the Dog, sleeps, / And the bird, the Sparrow, slumbers. / Mermaids soar, broad in the beam, / Soar straight up into the heavens, / With their arms as stout as boughs / And their breasts as round as...»