In northern capital a dusty poplar’s planted,
Translucent clock-face is ensnared by dappled green,
And in its shade gleams house or battleship enchanted
From far away, the kin of sky and water’s sheen.
A breezy barque, its mast of touch-me-not is slender,
It stands in line along with Peter’s royal heirs,
It shows that demi-god does not make beauty tender,
For its design is caught in simple craftsman’s stares.
On earth we’re governed by four elemental forces,
But fifth is free creation of the human heart.
Does it not mock hegemony of space’s courses,
This ark so chastely crafted by its maker’s art?
Enraged, Medusas clutch with spiteful glare’s contentions,
The rusty anchor rots like an abandoned plough —
Behold, she casts aside the bonds of three dimensions
And all the oceans of the world are opened now!
В столице северной томится пыльный тополь,
Запутался в листве прозрачный циферблат,
И в тёмной зелени фрегат или акрополь
Сияет и́здали — воде и небу брат.
Ладья воздушная и мачта-недотрога,
Служа линейкою преемникам Петра,
Он учит: красота — не прихоть полубога,
А хищный глазомер простого столяра.
Нам четырёх стихий приязненно господство,
Но создал пятую свободный человек:
Не отрицает ли пространства превосходство
Сей целомудренно построенный ковчег?
Сердито лепятся капризные Медузы,
Как плуги брошены, ржавеют якоря —
И вот разорваны трёх измерений узы
И открываются всемирные моря.
«Hands wrought under the dark veil... / "What is it that makes you so pale and faint?" / — I’m afraid that I made him drunk with the ale / Of bitter anguish and torturous pain. Could I forget it? He stumbled out, wavering, / His tormented mouth was twisted and grim... / I ran down the ...»
«High in the sky, the cloud grew grayer, / Like a stretched out squirrel pelt. / "I don’t care," he said, "Snow Maiden, / That in March your frame will melt." My hands grew cold in the downy muff. / I felt scared, confused and wary. / How to bring back the weeks of his love / That pass...»
«The door ajar, the sudden / Sweet scents of limes close up… / The glove and whip, forgotten, / Lie on the tabletop. The oval of the lamp aglow… / I’m listening, intent. / Why did you have to go? / I do not understand… Tomorrow morning surely will / Be jubilant and nice, / A...»
«…You want to know how this came to be? — / In the dining room, the clock struck three, / Holding the banister timidly, / While saying goodbye, she said listlessly: / “That is it… No, there is more, you see. / I love you. I loved you wholeheartedly / Even back then, no less!” ...»