To Khodasevich
A childhood memory: those pears,
wrinkled, little, tight,
and hidden inside
tart flesh that puckered the mouth:
exactly so my delight
in the bitter shards of your verse.
С детства помню: груши есть такие —
сморщенные, мелкие, тугие,
и такая терпкость скрыта в них,
что едва укусишь, — сводит челюсть:
так вот для меня и эта прелесть
злых, оскомистых стихов твоих.
«You'd be always out / In villages around / Having fun at feasts / I'd be on my own, / In the wood or home, / Watching plants and trees. / / Girls were, sewing, spinning / Grannies played with children / I was all alone, / Gentle as a berry / Still as captive birdie / In a fl...»
«You are adorable / As you can be, / Your hand's as white / As snow to me. / You're unapproachable, / Far from the world, / The whole of you / Is unavoidable. / / You're unavoidable / Just like your grief, / your fingers, hands, / Which never lose their warmth, / The quiet ...»
«Floweret, faded and forsaken, / Fragile beauty of the lea, / Autumn's cruel hand hath taken / All thy summer charms from thee. Heigho! that the years must bring / This same destiny to all; / One by one our joys take wing, / One by one your petals fall. So each evening rings the knell /...»
«Dionysus walks his vineyard, his beloved; / Two women in dark clothing — two vintagers — follow him. / Dionysus tells the two mournful guards — The vintagers: / "Take your sharp knife, my vintners, Grief and Torment; / Harvest, Grief and Torment, my beloved grapes! / Gather the blo...»