Flying in at my window,
a moon like a snow jay
scrapes claws on walls,
flutters over my pillow
Scared of confinement
in pages or dwelling,
my homeless darling —
in midnight finery.
Луна, точно снежная сойка,
Влетает в окошко ко мне
И крыльями машет над койкой,
Когтями скребет по стене.
И бьется на белых страницах,
Пугаясь людского жилья,
Моя полуночная птица,
Бездомная прелесть моя.
«Sunset dreams on fir-tre cones, / Green — the hedge, and brown — the field; / Mossy rifts in weathered stones / Meekly vernal waters yield. Oh, look up the wooded steep — / God has touched it with his palm; / Piously wild berries weep, / Listening to the grassy psa...»
«A Psalter of Tsar' Aleksii, / Its pages — scarves, funeral groats, / Restless Russia / Wanders, wheezing, through decrees. The peasant jacket is torn, / The disgraced headscarf flaps . / Now a bench by' the door would be good, / And tales about Constantinople, Honey buns on the tabl...»
«I have forgotten what is in my hands: / A heart, a hat, or a cane? / In the gardens of the Lord / Grape bunches ripen. Ahead the cry: "don't," / Behind: "return." / All that is quiet is the path / Leading upwards. Shouldn't I follow it? / Maybe, if no sin is committed, / On the azu...»
«All that was in the soul, all was lost again; / I lay down in the grass, sad and bored, / And a flower lifted its lovely form above me, / A grasshopper standing in front of it on guard. / / Then I opened the weighty volume I had before me, / And on the first page saw a drawing of a plan...»