In those days the first words
Were heard in infantile melody,
Jehovah’s youthful anger roared
Above the world like spring thunder,
And the cedars learned to cast their shade,
And Eve — she had only just fallen,
And her depths boiled with seed,
And the world was God, and God was passion.
He wore it out with His jealousy,
Pouring fire straight into the blood…
Israel, can you really have drunk up
All of the Lord’s first love?
В те дни младенческим напевом
Звучали первые слова,
Как гром весенний, юным гневом
Гремел над миром Егова,
И тень бросать учились кедры,
И Ева — лишь успела пасть,
И семенем кипели недра,
И мир был — Бог, и Бог — был страсть.
Своею ревностью измаял,
Огнем вливался прямо в кровь...
Ужель ты выпил всю, Израиль,
Господню первую любовь?
«(for S. Ephron) 2 I shall lift my arms / my empty hands / through the black window / and fling myself / down the midnight clanging / of the clock tower / home. I would go home / like this: head down / from the noisy tower. Home, / not against the cobblestoned square / but into ...»
«There is no name for thee! / ’Tis beyond all mortal cunning / To reveal what charm is thine. There is no lyre for thee! / What can song do? 'tis false witness / Come too late with news of thee. If we could only hear / What the heart says, what a power / Would be in its hymn to thee! ...»
«You were before me, / Standing in silence; / Your face was downcast / And deep in thought. / It made me think of / The past we loved so. / That was the last time / It saw this world here. / Away you vanished, / A silent angel. / Today your grave is / Quiet as heaven. / There ...»
«And have you heard the singer in the night? / His song of love, his song of love despairing? / His plaintive pipe, his lonely vigil sharing? / In silent fields, before the morning light, / Have heard him there? And have you met him in the darkling wood? / The singer from the grave, alone,...»