The green reflection in the glass door.
Automobiles hum below.
I don't think about my homeland.
Why should I? They killed her.
You, of course, will reproach me
For this, for not thinking.
But I only wait for three days to pass:
She will be resurrected in new flesh.
Отблеск зеленый в дверном стекле,
поют внизу автомобили.
Не думаю о моей земле:
что тут думать? Ее убили.
Вы, конечно, за это меня —
за недуманье — упрекнете?
Я лишь жду, чтоб прошло три дня:
она воскреснет — в новой плоти.
«To M. Kvilividze I shall bury a grape stone in the warm fertile soil by my house, / and I’ll kiss the vine twig and gather sweet grapes, my reward, / and I’ll call all my friends to the feast, and love in my heart I will rouse... / Otherwise, what’s the purpose of living in this lasting...»
«Now, again as before, / mothers seem to be fond of their kids, love them dearly. / In the past they did loved them, really, / but often reproached them for sponging, / and spanked them severely. Now they keep everything, / just in case, for some future occasion: / alarm, faith, love and...»
«Will you please be so kind as to pull down the blinds, and, / Nurse, you needn't prepare for me any dope. / Here they are, right in front of my bed, keeping silent, / My old creditors: Love and Belief, and great Hope. Now the short age's son has to settle accounts, / But the light empty pur...»
«To Yury Trifonov Let's shout and rejoice, admire one another. / About high-flown words we do not need to bother. / Let's live in mutual praise, make complimentary comments / For these are, after all, love's great and happy moments. Let's grieve and cry without concealing feelings, whether / ...»