There is this hard,
This shameful.
Almost impossible —
Hard:
It is to lift the eyelashes
And look into the face of a mother,
Whose son was killed.
But one shouldn’t talk about that.
Есть такое трудное,
Такое стыдное.
Почти невозможное —
Такое трудное:
Это — поднять ресницы
И взглянуть в лицо матери,
У которой убили сына.
Но не надо говорить об этом.
«Athirst for insects, butterflies. / And stains we long had waited, / And round us both were memories / Of heat, mint, honey plaited. No clocks chimed, but the flail rang clear / From dawn to dusk and planted / Its dreams of stings into the air. / The weather was enchanted. Strolled sun...»
«A lilac heat was heavy on the meadow, / High in the wood cathedral's darkness swelled. / What in the world was left still for their kisses? / It was all theirs, soft wax in fingers held. Such is the dream — you do not sleep, but only / Dream that you thirst for sleep, that someone lies / ...»
«The air is whipped by the frequent rain-drops; / The ice is grey and mangy. Ahead / You look for the skyline to awaken / And start; you wait for the drone to spread. As always, with overcoat unbuttoned. / With muffler about his chest undone. / He pursues before him the unsleeping / Sill...»
«Unforgettable September is strewn about Spasskoye, / Is to-day not time to leave the cottage here? / Beyond the fence Echo has shouted with the herdsman. / And in the woods has made the axe’s stroke ring clear. Last night outside the park the chilling marshes shivered. / The moment the su...»