For three days now I’ve spoken with no one...
My thoughts are greedy and malicious.
My back hurts. Everywhere I look,
I see only sky-blue patches.
The church bell was droning. It stopped.
I am alone with myself.
Silk of scarlet creaks and bends
Beneath the clumsy needle.
A seal lies over all phenomena.
It is as though they are fused, one to another.
Having taken one in, I try to divine
The other behind it — that which is hidden.
And this silk seems Fire to me.
And now no longer Fire, but Blood.
And blood is but a sign of that which we
Call, in our poor language, Love.
Love is but a sound… At this late hour,
What comes next I can’t reveal.
No, not fire, nor blood, but only satin
Creaks beneath the timid needle.
Уж третий день ни с кем не говорю...
А мысли — жадные и злые.
Болит спина; куда ни посмотрю —
Повсюду пятна голубые.
Церковный колокол гудел; умолк;
Я всё наедине с собою.
Скрипит и гнется жарко-алый шелк
Под неумелою иглою.
На всех явлениях лежит печать.
Одно с другим как будто слито.
Приняв одно — стараюсь угадать
За ним другое, — то, что скрыто.
И этот шелк мне кажется — Огнем.
И вот уж не огнем — а Кровью.
А кровь — лишь знак того, что мы зовем
На бедном языке — Любовью.
Любовь — лишь звук... Но в этот поздний час
Того, что дальше, — не открою.
Нет, не огонь, не кровь... а лишь атлас
Скрипит под робкою иглою.
«Today, the first time ever, / For children and grown-ups — / Trained seals and dancing lions, / Somersaulting pups. A troupe of juggling bearcubs, / Squirrel acrobats, / Jumbo, tightrope-walker, / Chorus-singing cats. World champions in athletics, / Two brothers, strong and ...»
«Little Fly so spruce and sprightly, / Golden tummy shining brightly, Right across the field she flew, / Spied a penny. It was new. So she searched the town bazaar. / There she bought a samovar. “Dear Cockroaches, come with me / I invite you all to tea.” To the Fly Cockroaches scu...»
«The sun went strolling in the sky / When suddenly a cloud came by. / Bunny took a look outside. / “Oh, how dark it is!” he cried. And the magpies on the farm / Chattered loudly in alarm. / They hopped about the hills and plains / And shouted to the storks and cranes: / “L...»
«Long the Tsar sat lonely, brooding. / But he, too, was only human. / Tears for one sad year he shed... / And another woman wed. / She (if one be strictly truthful) / Was a born Tsaritsa — youthful, / Slim, tall, fair to look upon, / Clever, witty — and so on. / But sh...»