Swimming in the blue dust,
The moon butts a cloud with its horn.
This night, no one will guess
Why the herons screamed.
This night, she ran through the reeds
To the green backwater.
Her white hand swept her tousled hair
Over her tunic.
She ran up, glanced at the quick spring
And sat down on the stump in pain.
In her eyes, the daisies wilted
The way a swamp light goes out.
At dawn, through the spiraling fog,
She swam away and vanished in the distance...
And the moon, swimming in the blue dust,
Nodded to her from behind the hill.
Месяц рогом облако бодает,
В голубой купается пыли.
В эту ночь никто не отгадает,
Отчего кричали журавли.
В эту ночь к зелёному затону
Прибегла она из тростника.
Золотые космы по хитону
Разметала белая рука.
Прибегла, в ручей взглянула прыткий,
Опустилась с болью на пенёк.
И в глазах завяли маргаритки,
Как болотный гаснет огонёк.
На рассвете с вьющимся туманом
Уплыла и скрылася вдали…
И кивал ей месяц за курганом,
В голубой купаяся пыли.
«Motor-scooter roaring / past the sanatorium! Behind the handlebars / like Rublyov angels: loving riders. As in the fresco of the Annunciation / with its strident white tone / see their women scattering a shine / behind them, like wings on their spine! The splaying of their dress! / Tu...»
«Yesterday my doctor announced: / ‘Maybe you’re talented, who knows, / but even so your blow-pipe’s frozen, / keep out of the freezing weather.’ O nose! Inevitably as the hours, / my nose, the capuchins’ and yours / obeying / medicinal / ...»
«Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal / the way you dream, the things you feel. / Deep in your spirit let them rise / akin to stars in crystal skies / that set before the night is blurred: / delight in them and speak no word. How can a heart expression find? / How should another know your ...»
«Be silent, I beg, don’t dare to wake me. / In this criminal and shameful century / Not to live, not to feel – an enviable fate. / Sleep in joy and with greater joy be stone.»