Chase poems of the night away,
No need for preemies of the spirit:
Since night assists you at their birth,
And night is an atrocious midwife.
You madman! If you really do
Aspire to exalted singing,
Outstubborn, try to overcome
Your momentary excitation.
Know this: the chatter of the night
Will never ever sound like music
Until the lines can feel the coolness
Of day which brings all things to light.
Гони стихи ночные прочь,
Не надо недоносков духа:
Ведь их воспринимает ночь,
А ночь — плохая повитуха.
Безумец! Если ты и впрямь
Высокого возжаждал пенья,
Превозмоги, переупрямь
Свое минутное кипенье.
Пойми: ночная трескотня
Не станет музыкой, покуда
По строкам не пройдет остуда
Всеобнажающего дня.
«A soldier — into a trench, / A head of hair — into grayness, / Sky! I blend with you, sea-like. / On every syllable / As at a secret look, / I turn, / I preen. A Scythian — into a skirmish, / A whip — into a wild dance. / Sea! I brave into you, sky-like. / In every poem / ...»
«From the mind’s dreams, from the bile’s rage, / Goddess of Faithfulness, keep your slave. With cast-iron hoops bind tight her breast, / Goddess of Faithfulness, be her nest. Remove from the shrub all flowers and pips, / Make her mouth numb, then seal her lips. As safe as bone encased ...»
«When parched with thirst, give me water, / One glass, or else I’ll die. / Persistently — languidly — melodically — / I pledge my feverish cry Repeated at length — yet still more fiercely, / Once more — again / Tossing all night long for sleep, / Aware all sleep is spent. ...»
«After a sleepless night my body grows weaker, / Becomes sweet and no one’s — no longer mine. / In the slow veins the arrows still flicker, / And like a seraph, I smile at passers-by. After a sleepless night my arms grow languid; / Friend or foe, my indifference is complete. / A full r...»