Sergey Esenin
- I have got but one only fun left..., by Vyacheslav Chetin
- Only one final trick..., by Geoffrey Thurley
- There was only one game now lacking..., by Rupert Moreton
Sergei Jessenin (deutsch)
- Lust, Maxim Cicilanov
«The greedy saline soil had eaten everything. / I rooted out the twisted, writhen roots of / The vines that curled here once upon a time – / The earth was nubbly, desiccated, scabby, / Like a feverish sick woman’s lips... / Beneath its lacerated sole my foot / Grew calloused from lean...»
«So Hagar sits in obloquy / And gushing piteously / The spring pours out a threnody: / Be-er la-chai ro-yi. Those lands belong to Abraham, / But this expanse – to none: / In front of her, the wilderness / To Shur itself does run. Despair, despair instinctual! / In her Egyptian eyes,...»
«Not for safe-keeping for awhile, – / For the altar, not donation, – / For the fire, the fire, its oblation / Rapt Israel brought in times gone by! And pleasing to Jehovah’s nostrils / Was smoke from sacrificial fires, / Because a consecrated offering / In truth, can not be taken b...»
«Don’t seduce me into captivity, / Don’t entice me with hearth and home, / Don’t immure me living and breathing / Inside four walls. There’s no chamber for which a poet / Would exchange her homelessness, – / That’s why the cuckoo cuckoos / That she hasn’t got a nest.»