His sweet lids close and shut away
the moan of my young moon song.
My darling, my dying, my light, my sight,
my night my whole day long.
Гроб леунностей младых.
Веко милое упало.
Смертнич, смертнич, свет-жених,
Я весь сон тебя видала.
«I loved the great meadows / and their honey scent / and clumps of trees, and dry grass / and bull’s horns in the grass. Every dusty bush along the road / shouted, “I’m playing with you! / Walk around me, watch out, / and you’ll see who I really am!” Only the fierce autumn win...»
«I remember an ancient artists’ prayer: / Keep us, Lord, from students Who push our wretched genius / toward the blasphemy of new revelations. Honest and open enemies we can deal with, / but this kind hangs in our footsteps And smiles, and laughs, as we fight — until / Peter forswears,...»
«I keep in memory the masters` ancient prayer: / Please, Lord, take us away from those who care / If our poor genius` decisions / Blasphemously were searching for new visions. We can accept a foe who doesn`t fake / But these are wondering of every step we take / They are so glad in struggl...»
«I'll walk along the tracks, / thinking, following / the thread of the running rails / across the yellow sky, the scarlet sky. I'll go to the gloomy / station, shivering — / if the watchmen don't shout / and chase me off. And later, determined to remember, / I'll think — again, ag...»