No, today I do not want you,
Memory, so just hold your tongue,
You vainglorious procuress,
Don’t procure me anyone.
Don’t seduce me down dark alleys,
To the places left behind –
To the bold or to the timid
Lips I’ve kissed so many times.
Sacrilegiously inspired,
I have ploughed my heart soil up, –
Rooting out the names of lovers
From my sacred calendars.
Не хочу тебя сегодня.
Пусть язык твой будет нем.
Память, суетная сводня,
Не своди меня ни с кем.
Не мани по темным тропкам,
По оставленным местам
К этим дерзким, этим робким
Зацелованным устам.
С вдохновеньем святотатцев
Сердце взрыла я до дна.
Из моих любовных святцев
Вызываю имена.
«I pray to the ray from the window-pane — / It’s pale, thin, and straight. / All morning I was silent, / My heart — split in two. / The copper of my wash-basin / Is green with verdigris, / But sunlight plays there, / How joyously. / So simple it is, so innocent, / In evening q...»
«He loved three things, alive: / White peacocks, songs at eve, / And antique maps of America. / Hated when children cried, / And raspberry jam with tea, / And feminine hysteria. / ...And he had married me.»
«My feather brushed the carriage roof. / I was gazing into his eyes. / The pain, in my heart, I failed to know, / Caused by my own sighs. The evening breathless, heavily-chained / Under a heavenly cloud-bank, / As in the Bois de Boulogne, stained, / In some old album, with Indian ink. S...»
«I won’t beg for your love. / It’s safely laid aside…. / I won’t be penning jealous / Letters to your bride. / But be wise, take my advice: / Give her my poems to read, / Give her my photos beside — / Be kind to the newly-wed! / Oh, knowledge is better for geese, / Feeling...»