The tangled wood was full of sound
the forest screamed, the forest groaned
with fear
to see the spear-man beast his spear.
Why does hart's horn hang heavy
with the moving mark of love?
Arrow's flash of metal hits a haunch,
and reckons right. Now beast is broken
to his knees, beaten to the ground.
His eyes look deep at death.
The horses clatter, snort, and chatter:
«We bring the Tall Ones. Useless to run.»
Useless only your exquisite motion,
your almost feminine face. No action
can save you. You fly from rack and ruin,
and searching spear-man follows fast.
Panting horses always closer,
branching antlers always lower,
twangling bowstrings over and over,
nor help nor hart from hurt and hazard.
But he rears abruptly, bristles, roars —
and shows a lion's cruel claws.
With lazy ease he touches, teases —
teaches the trick of terror.
Acquiescent and still,
they fall to fill their graves.
He rises rampant. Regal roar.
And around him everywhere lay beaten slaves.
Были наполнены звуком трущобы,
Лес и звенел и стонал,
Чтобы
Зверя охотник копьем доконал.
Олень, олень, зачем он тяжко
В рогах глагол любви несет?
Стрелы вспорхнула медь на ляжку,
И не ошибочен расчет.
Сейчас он сломит ноги оземь
И смерть увидит прозорливо,
И кони скажут говорливо:
«Нет, не напрасно стройных возим».
Напрасно прелестью движений
И красотой немного девьего лица
Избегнуть ты стремился поражений,
Копьем искавших беглеца.
Все ближе конское дыханье
И ниже рог твоих висенье,
И чаше лука трепыханье,
Оленю нету, нет спасенья.
Но вдруг у него показались грива
И острый львиный коготь,
И беззаботно и игриво
Он показал искусство трогать.
Без несогласья и без крика
Они легли в свои гробы,
Он же стоял с осанкою владыки —
Были созерцаемы поникшие рабы.
«The noise subsides. I walk onto the stage. / I listen closely to the echo of the hum / And leaning on the doorway, try to gauge / Just what will happen in the age to come. In gloom of night, the theater glasses gather / In thousands and focus on the play. / If only you are willing, Abba F...»
«The sunset’s lights were dying down. / Across the thickets of the copse, / Toward a distant Ural town, / A man was riding on his horse. The horse was trembling with spite / And echoing the noisy clatter, / The water ran along its side / And wildly splattered in the gutter. And when h...»
«Life has suddenly returned again, / Just as once it strangely went away. / On this ancient street, once more I stand, / Just as then, that distant summer day. Same old people and the same old worry / And the sunset’s fire is still warm, / Just as when, the evening in a hurry / Nailed ...»
«Don’t cry. Don’t tense your swollen lips, / Don’t pack them into creases. / You’ll irritate those dried up bits / Of scabs from vernal fevers. Withdraw you hand, don’t touch my chest, / We’re cables under voltage. / To one another, by some chance / We may be thrown by fortun...»