With a cane he feels his way,
blind man on a random walk,
carefully he plants a foot
and mumbles something to himself.
In the whiteness of his eyes
a universe reflected back:
a house, a field, a fence, a cow,
patches of a pale blue sky —
everything that he can't see.
Палкой щупая дорогу,
Бродит наугад слепой,
Осторожно ставит ногу
И бормочет сам с собой.
А на бельмах у слепого
Целый мир отображен:
Дом, лужок, забор, корова,
Клочья неба голубого —
Все, чего не видит он.
«how many times encircled by / a motley crowd / in front of me / as in a dream cacophonies of dance / & music / speeches learned by heart / in phatic whispers mixing with shapes of people / absent a mind or soul / grimacing masks / yet so fastidious much as they touch / my cold...»
«The eyes beg helplessly and dearly / For mercy. Can I ease their pain / As someone is uttering near me / His short and resounding name? I cross the field along the trail, / Where silver timber logs are piled. / Down here, the gentle gusts prevail / As in the springtime, fresh and wild. ...»
«A perfectly ripened trill, / The cackling of crushed ice, / Night, frosting a leaf, / A duel between nightingales. A sweet pea-vine grown wild, / God's tears upon a peapod, / Figaro from flutes and conductors' stands / Crashing down like hail on a flower bed. The crucial discovery of n...»
«I’d like to live with You / In a small town, / Where there are eternal twilights / And eternal bells. / And in a small village inn — / The faint chime / Of ancient clocks — like droplets of time. / And sometimes, in the evenings, from some garret — / A flute, / And the flau...»