The naked staghorn rising in the woods
may seem a dead tree.
When a heart of darkness bares itself in words
they scream: he's mad.
Когда рога оленя подымаются над зеленью,
Они кажутся засохшее дерево.
Когда сердце н<о>чери обнажено в словах,
Бают: он безумен.
«To A. Sakharov That hurricane is past. How few of us came through it! / To friendship’s call so many don’t respond. / I’m back in the bereaved land I have truly / For eight years not set eyes upon. Whom can I ask to come and see me, sharing / With them the sad joy that I’m still al...»
«It can’t be dispelled, can this sorrow, / By the laughter of years long withdrawn. / All gone is my white linden blossom, / Sung — the song of the nightingale dawn. Then all things were new to me, feelings / Were welling up, crowding my heart. / But now tender phrases even / From my...»
«Alike a certain youth, the world I roam over / With one way travel in the thick of people and lands… / In vain a brother I look for among the lads, / In every girl foresee a sister to discover. With joy in my lost soul above the earth I hover; / In life I trust, believe in truth, do odds ...»
«Shades of not shaped up creations / Slowly swaying at nightfall / Look like patched imaginations / Over the enamel wall. There’re palms of violet color / Over the enamel wall, / They compose out thorough / Silent sounds while they stroll. And transparent news-stands mount / ...»