I seek for rhythmic whisperings
Where noises bandy —
For life I listen wistfully
In footless banter.
I cast wide nets and tentative
In lakes of sorrow.
I go toward final tenderness
By pathways sordid.
I look for dewdrops glistering
In falsehood's gardens.
I save truth's globules glistening,
From dust-heaps garnered.
I fain would fathom fortitude
Through years of wormwood —
And pierce the mortal fortalice,
Yet live, a worldling.
My cup, through ways impassable,
To bear, untainted;
By tenebrous bleak passages
To joy attaining.
Ищу напевных ше-
потов
В несвязном шу-
ме,
Ловлю живые шо-
рохи
В ненужной шу-
тке.
Закидываю не-
воды
В озера гру-
сти,
Иду к последней не-
жности
Сквозь пыль и гру-
бость.
Ищу росинок ис-
кристых
В садах непра-
вды,
Храню их в чаше ис-
тины,
Беру из пра-
ха.
Хочу коснуться сме-
лаго
Чрез горечь жи-
зни.
Хочу прорезать сме-
ртное
И знать, что жив -
я.
Меж цепкого и ле-
пкого
Скользнуть бы с ча-
шей.
По самой темной ле-
стнице
Дойти до сча-
стья.
«Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita Me, me, me. What a preposterous word! / Can that man there really be me? / Did Mama really love this face, / dull yellow with greying edges / like an ancient know-it-all snake? Can the boy who danced in summer / at the Ostбnkino country-house balls / ...»
«God alive! I'm not beyond coherence: / mindfully, I walk among my poems / like a disobliging abbot / among his humble monks. / I shepherd my obedient flock / with a staff that's bursting into bloom. / The keys to the mysterious garden / hang clinking at my belt. / I ponder hopefully,...»
«Through the consoling April sun / the breeze, so very unconsoling, / a sandy whirlwind on the road — / shutting up the chattering starling. Up above the northern latitudes, / dark grey clouds are bulking high. / Bowler hats get pulled down tight — / but these two dandies let theirs ...»
«Step over, leap across, / fly beyond, however you like, get through it — / but tear yourself off: be a stone from a sling, / be a star that breaks away from the night... / You lost it yourself — now look for it. God knows what you grunt to yourself, / looking for spectacles or keys.»