Our grandad’s outlandish dream,
the prison years of our heroes,
our hope and our heartfelt lament,
our prayer we hardly dared utter –
our dis-membered
dis-constituted,
dis-banded
Constituent Assembly.
Наших дедов мечта невозможная,
Наших героев жертва острожная,
Наша молитва устами несмелыми,
Наша надежда и воздыхание, —
Учредительное Собрание, —
Что мы с ним сделали?
«So many stones are thrown at me, / They no longer scare. / Fine, now, is the snare, / Among high towers a high tower. / I thank its builders: may / They never need a friend. / Here I can see the sun rise earlier / And see the glory of the day’s end. / And often into the window of m...»
«How can you look at the Neva, / Stand on bridges just the same?.. / No wonder I’ve borne signs of grieving / Since the night your image came. / / Sharp are the black angels’ wings, / Soon the judgement of the dead, / And street bonfires blazing red / Like roses in snow are flowe...»
«The road is black by the beach — Garden. Lamps yellow and fresh. I’m very calm. I’d rather not talk about him. I’ve a lot of feelings for you. You’re kind. We’ll kiss, grow old, walk around. Light months will fly over us. Like snowy stars.»
«For O. A. Kuzmina-Karavaeva / / ‘If we could only reach the shore, / My dear!’ — ‘Sh! Be quiet!’… / And we started down the stairs, / Hardly breathing, searching for keys. / / Past the house where we had once / Danced and drunk wine, / Past the Senate’s white column...»