The evening flares, the cat naps on a beam.
Someone is praying: “Lord Jesus.”
The twilight blazes, the fog kindles;
There is a scarlet curtain over the ornate window.
Spider webs stretch from the golden toolshed.
Somewhere a mouse is scratching in a closed cage…
By the forest meadow — bundles of wheat.
Firs, like spears, rest against the sky.
The dew-covered groves have started to smolder…
In the heart, only silence and relics.
Задымился вечер, дремлет кот на брусе.
Кто-то помолился: «Господи Исусе».
Полыхают зори, курятся туманы,
Над резным окошком занавес багряный.
Вьются паутины с золотой повети.
Где-то мышь скребется в затворенной клети...
У лесной поляны — в свяслах копны хлеба,
Ели, словно копья, уперлися в небо.
Закадили дымом под росою рощи...
В сердце почивают тишина и мощи.
«Do I need excuses / For divine mismatching? — / Poetry and music / Aren't cure-all magic. And why hum insanely / Tunes and verses hopeless? / Having nothing saintly / Feels more fun and homeless. And our gain is pretty / Minuscule and fleeting — / Only heartfelt pity, / So th...»
«T. O.-T. My evening, silver-feathered, / All-consecrating light! / As if no longer present, / I turn to you my sight – With gratefulness: for every / Revitalizing breath, / That in my final craving / You granted to my breast, For every elevation / Of your becalming hand, / For a...»
«Our rendezvous, their each and every moment, / we celebrated as a holy omen, / Epiphany for just the two of us. / As daring as a wing, more light than dust, / you, down the stairway, like a dizzy torrent / ran skipping treads, and navigated past / the veil of lilac to the territory / u...»
« You were sleeping, today, while I was looking about us / into the shadows, a horseman in patrol. / It was then I understood exactly how late it was: / how death is waiting on stage, and how everything passes, / and though it looks innocent to scribble these lines / poetry is no longer pr...»