Under such blows
your narrow shoulders will redden
and flame, even in the snow.
Your childlike hands
will lift up irons
and weave the heaviest ropes.
Barefoot on glass
your slight feet will go,
barefoot on glass in the blooded sand.
And I will bum for you
like a black candle
(a black candle). I shall not dare pray.
Твоим узким плечам под бичами краснеть,
Под бичами краснеть, на морозе гореть.
Твоим детским рукам утюги поднимать,
Утюги поднимать да веревки вязать.
Твоим нежным ногам по стеклу босиком,
По стеклу босиком да кровавым песком…
Ну, а мне за тебя черной свечкой гореть,
Черной свечкой гореть да молиться не сметь.
«We grew older by a whole century, and / It took no more than an hour: The fleeting / Summer was already nearing the end, / The ploughed up body of the plains was seething. Then, suddenly, the quiet road grew crazed, / Loud cries arose, and silver voices rattled… / I pleaded God, while c...»
«— She’s at the riverbed, in algae, covered / With weeds... She went to sleep there, / But there’s no dream there, as it happens. / — But I loved her, / Loved more than forty thousand brothers / Ever could have loved! / — Hamlet...»
«— She's — She's in the riverbed, in algae / And weeds...She went to them / To sleep, — but there's no sleep there, either! / — But she's the one I loved / Like forty thousand brothers / Couldn't love! / — Hamlet! / She's in the riverbed, ...»
«To A. Tarkovsky I laid the table for six...* All repeat the first line / And all the well-worn refrain: / — "I laid the table for six" ... / You fave forgotten one - the seventh. Six of us excited. / Their faces - sparkling ... / How could you for such a table / Forget seven — th...»