Pain’s quieter — your hand,
Whitebodied color of magnolia — your hand.
Love knocked on my door at wintery midday,
And holding a sable fur — your hand.
Ah, like a butterfly, touched down on the stem of
My hand for a moment — no longer — your hand!
And what my enemies and I extinguished,
And what we didn’t conquer was set on fire by your hand:
All the fiery tenderness within me was set aflame,
O, empress of self-wills, by your hand!
Straightaway laid on my heart (I won’t complain:
Isn’t this heart yours?) — your hand.
Утишительница боли — твоя рука,
Белотелый цвет магнолий — твоя рука.
Зимним полднем постучалась ко мне любовь,
И держала мех соболий твоя рука.
Ах, как бабочка, на стебле руки моей
Погостила миг — не боле — твоя рука!
Но зажгла, что притушили враги и я,
И чего не побороли, твоя рука:
Всю неистовую нежность зажгла во мне,
О, царица своеволий, твоя рука!
Прямо на сердце легла мне (я не ропщу:
Сердце это не твое ли!) — твоя рука.
«1 I am the voice that cries in the wilderness / Of the swarming crowds in the spasms of cities / In whirlpools of the streets and railway stations / The least inhabited of all the deserts on earth. 2 I was told: / — Go to the market places — / The time has come, / To...»
«Mother, blind, stares in the window; / Answering spring her wrinkles laugh. / But her heart is dedicated to ache, / With growing pain it beats in the sun. We need neither light nor beauty! / We need no blessings from outside! / How my son in his distant exile / Counts the deathly hours ...»
«I mouthed to the rain to drizzle. / The dust had wrapped itself up. / I tied on my feet grass sandals, / And hooked on a walking crutch. And along this stretch of road / I rolled off into the distance, / Crossing my stick-like legs, / Having rescued my sadness.»
«I fell in love with you on amber day, / When new-born laziness was bleeding / In radiant gleam of azure ray / From every grateful branch proceeding. Your trunk grew white, as white as drunken daze / Of lake-land waters foaming. / And jolly Lel, with mocking plays, / Yo...»