They look anew with sightless eyes
Mother of God and the Savior-Child.
It smells of incense, oil, and wax.
The church fills up with quiet weeping.
The candles melt by the young meek woman
In the numb and stiff little fist.
Ah, lead me away from my death,
You, whose hands are tan and fresh,
You, arousing whatever you go past!
Is it not the wind of all stormy shores
In your despairing name,
O, Marina, name-sister of the sea!
Смотрят снова глазами незрячими
Матерь Божья и Спаситель-Младенец.
Пахнет ладаном, маслом и воском.
Церковь тихими полнится плачами.
Тают свечи у юных смиренниц
В кулачке окоченелом и жестком.
Ах, от смерти моей уведи меня,
Ты, чьи руки загорелы и свежи,
Ты, что мимо прошла, раззадоря!
Не в твоем ли отчаянном имени
Ветер всех буревых побережий,
О, Марина, соименница моря!
«Darling boy, You are so merry, your smile is bright and clean, / Don't ask for this perfect happiness, poison for all our worlds… / You don't know, You don't know what defines this polish violin, / What secret horror hides in these initial accords. A someone who takes her body in his imp...»
«Pretty boy, / you are so merry / and your smile's — so light, so sunny. / Don't you ask me for this passion / that is poison to the worlds. / You don't know, don't know how dreadful / is this Magic Violin, sonny, / And how gloomy is the horror / of the one who strikes the cords. H...»
«I was given a body – what to do with it now, / One so unique and my own somehow? For this quiet joy, to breathe and to be, / Whom should I thank, somebody tell me? I’m the gardener, I’m the flower as well, / I’m not alone in world’s dungeon cell. On the glass of eternity, I’ve a...»
«Listen! / if the stars are lit, / then someone must need them, of course? / then someone must want them to be there, / calling those droplets of spittle pearls? And wheezing, / in the blizzards of midday dust, / he rushes to God, / fearing he’s out of time / and sobbing, / he ki...»