Supper sky fell in love with a bulwark
All is slashed with pink scars of light threads —
Having fallen upon it was thrown back
And transformed into thirteen odd heads.
There you are, my nighty-night heaven,
Like a young boy I’m here to face you —
Chills run down my back, eyes are straining
Catching trebuchet stones as they flew.
And with every new strike of the siege ram
In the sky falling stars lose their eyes —
Same old supper adorned with new lesions,
Murky fresco's unfinished surmise.
Небо вечери в стену влюбилось, —
Все изрублено светом рубцов —
Провалилось в нее, осветилось,
Превратилось в тринадцать голов.
Вот оно — мое небо ночное,
Пред которым как мальчик стою:
Холодеет спина, очи ноют.
Стенобитную твердь я ловлю —
И под каждым ударом тарана
Осыпаются звезды без глав:
Той же росписи новые раны —
Неоконченной вечности мгла...
«These evenings over the restaurants / The air is hot and strangely cloying, / And shouts drift from the drunkards’ haunts / On the putrid breath of spring. Far off, over dusty side streets can be seen — / Over snug villas mile on mile — / The golden flint of a baker’s sign, / An...»
«I Darkness — and white / Snow hurled / By the wind. The wind! / You cannot stand upright / For the wind: the wind / Scouring God’s world. The wind ruffles / The white snow, pulls / That treacherous / Wool over the wicked ice. / E...»
«To G. Chulkov I wander more and more about the city. / More and more see Death. And I smile / A reasonable smile. Well, what of that? / So I would have it. It is my nature thus to know / That death will come to me too, in its time. I walked along the road beside the races. / The golden d...»
«With this evening lake I hold discourse in the high / Harmony of song. In the slender thicket / Of high pines, from ramparts of sand, / From among graves and tombs where icon-lamps / Shine, and dusk is a smoky blue-gray, I send her loving songs. / She does not see me, nor need she. / Li...»