The Best of Marina Tsvetaeva (4)
Standing for homeland, word "Marina"…
x x x
Standing for homeland, word "Marina"
Within your cutlass you did draft.
In your magnificent existence
I was your first one and your last.
A night and pre-dawn I remember
In hell of the soldiers' rail car.
In chest I keep the shoulder pieces
And in the wind I rush my hair.
Don
1. White army, your way's a high one…
White army, your way's a high one:
Temple and chest — to the black gun.
White and divine is your cause:
Your white body — into the sand.
Not a flock of swans in the sky:
The sacred white army
Melts, melts with white sight..
The last dream of the old world:
Youth — Valour — Vandea — Don.
2. Who has survived will die, who has died will arise…
Who has survived will die, who has died will arise.
And now descendants, remember the times long gone:
Where were you? The question will roar like thunder,
Like thunder will roar the answer: On the Don!
"What did you do" "We were accepting torments,
Then grew tired and to sleep had gone.
And in the dictionary the thoughtful grandsons
Before the word "duty" will write the word "Don."
3. Waves and youth — outside the law!..
Waves and youth — outside the law!
Don has moved — we die — we drown.
We ask the wind of time to bear
To grandsons a wicked rumour:
Yes! Broke the Don's ice!
The white army — Yes! — died.
But with children and wives parting,
But on Don departing,
With a white flock flying onto the block,
We died for one thing: Huts!
On the last church having baptized,
White army — for centuries.
Hard and marvelous — loyalty till the coffin!..
x x x
Hard and marvelous — loyalty till the coffin!
Tsar-like luxury in squares' time!
Firm are the souls and ribs are firm likewise
Where are you, people of days gone by?
With ash equating altar and the throne,
Like a red-haired Tatar the freedom prowls.
Over the ashtrays at the table there's
Fugitive soldiers' and faithless wives' growl.
O, pitiful exertions of usurpers!..
x x x
O, pitiful exertions of usurpers!
Like sleep, like snow, like death, to all — a shrine.
A ban on Kremlin! There's no ban on wings, and
Therefore — there is no ban upon Kremlin.
Either soldiers drove into the ground a stake…
x x x
Either soldiers drove into the ground a stake,
Either they covered a face with a red rag,
Either deaf and dumb from punches is the Divine,
Either on Easter they were banned from Kremlin —
Old revelers should sit at the linen,
Birds should crawl, fish should sing, women — reason,
Horse on a horseman should ride out wild,
Wine should be given a newborn child,
Corpses carried out the window, rivers — burn,
In the midnight must arise the red sun,
The groom should the betrothed's name forget..
Ladies should love peasants yet.
Like blood and sweat it is simple…
x x x
Like blood and sweat it is simple:
To people — tsar, to tsar — people.
Like mystery of two it is clear:
The third is the spirit, the two are near.
From the sky tsar is placed on the throne:
That is clear like dream and snow.
To the throne tsar will come again yet:
It is holy like blood and sweat.
The rich man loved a poor woman…
x x x
The rich man loved a poor woman,
The scientist loved a dumb woman,
The ruddy man loved a pale woman,
The kind man loved a bad woman,
And the gold a copper coin.
"Where, merchant, is your wealth all?"
"In a wallet that's full of holes!"
"Where, proud one, is what you know?"
"Under a girl's pillow."
"Where are your red cheeks, gorgeous sight?"
"Whitened down in the black night."
"Where is the cross with silver chain?"
"Under the girl's boots again."
Rich man don't love a poor woman,
Scientist don't love a dumb woman,
Ruddy man don't love a pale woman,
Kind man don't love a bad woman,
And the gold a copper coin.
I'm — now. You're — will be. An abyss between us…
x x x
I'm — now. You're — will be. An abyss between us.
I drink. You're thirsty. We cannot agree.
Ten years, oh no, a hundred thousand years
Do stand between us. God does not build bridges.
Be! — this is my demand. Let me walk past you
Without violating growth with my breath.
I'm - now. You're — will be. In ten springs from now
You will say "is!" — and I will say "sometime"...
Dying, I won't say: I was. There's no pity…
x x x
Dying, I won't say: I was. There's no pity,
The culprits I don't seek.
There are more important things on earth
Than passions' storms and the lovers' feats.
Beating against this bosom with a wing,
You, the youthful inspiration's culprit,
I demand this of you: Be!
From obedience I will not flit.
Like right and left arms, here…
x x x
Like right and left arms, here,
Your soul to my soul is near.
In bliss and warmth we to each other cling
Like right wing and left wing.
But whirlwind rises — and lay the abyss
From left to right between the wings!
Inept and aimless is my time…
x x x
Inept and aimless is my time:
I ask a beggar for a dime
I proffer cash to rich and famous,
Into the needle ray I weave,
Unto a robber key I give,
With whiting I am blushing paleness.
The bum puts nothing in my palms,
The rich man does not take my alms,
The needle won't let through the ray,
The robber enters without key,
Dumb woman weeps in streams of three
Over a fameless, empty day.
Who didn't build homes with his hand…
x x x
Who didn't build homes with his hand
Does not merit the land.
Who the homes did not build
The earth will not be:
Ash — Straw…
I did not build the home.
Cradle, that is wound up in red!..
x x x
Cradle, that is wound up in red!
Cradle, that is rocked by the rabble!
Soldiers' thunder - by the evening — past the temples..
And beautiful will grow up the kid.
With the milk of wet nurse of Ryazan
He sucked in inheritance's good:
Flag — and the tri-unity of God.
Russian anthem - and space Russian.
In the needed day, by clear sun of God,
Duty he'll recall daughters and noble —
Cradle, that is rocked by the rabble!
Cradle, that is wound up in red!
I don't disturb, I do not sing…
x x x
I don't disturb, I do not sing
With a woman's poison. Hand
That is loyal I give to you —
Right one, that will hold the pen.
That, with which I form the cross
In the beauty of the night.
That, with which the things that God
Did command to me I write.
My left hand is daring,
Flattering and also sly.
Here to you the righteous
And right hand do proffer I.
From Cycle "Comedian"
1. It's not love, but fever! Light…
It's not love, but fever! Light
Battle's sly and full of lies.
Now it's nauseous, next day sweet,
Now he's dead, next day alive.
Battle rages. Both are laughing:
How intelligent are they!
By both heroine and hero
I am charmed in every way.
Viewer, a battle — or a dance now?
This a sword — or cattle stick?
Step ahead — three steps back now,
Three steps forward — one step back.
Mouth like honey, in the eyes, trust,
But already raised, the brow.
It's hypocrisy, not love now,
It is acting, and not love!
And result of these (parentheses —
Uncommitted so far) sins —
Will be of astounding poems
A stack oh-so-very thin.
2. You can't be friends with me, you can't be loving me!..
You can't be friends with me, you can't be loving me!
O beautiful eyes, look carefully!
A longboat has to sail, and the mill has to turn.
Is it for you to stop a heart as it whirls?
The notebook by the hand — you a mister won't be!
Is it not enough to sigh at comedy?
The cross of love is heavy — and we won't touch it.
Yesterday's day is gone — and we will keep it.
3. Your mouth is perfect for kisses, so tender…
Your mouth is perfect for kisses, so tender…
And this is it, I am totally like a beggar.
Who am I now? Alone? No, many more!
A conqueror? A conquest, no!
If this be love — or if this be adoring,
A pen's caprice — or else an axiom,
If this be torment for the angels' home —
Or little bit of pretense by calling.
Sadness of soul, charming of eyes, or
The script of pen — is not the same it all,
How and until these lips will call
Your mouth, perfect for kisses, so tender.
4. You do not hope — how I am merry!..
You do not hope — how I am merry!
They're dull after the revelry.
You are the mister, I — the lady.
And mainly I am just like thee!
Don't be deceived! By evil chill
Within the throat you yourself know
That for your lips I had become
Just from the hills of Champagne, foam.
There are revelries full of gold.
And just is this my revelry:
Without the syrup of love's truth —
Champagne of love's lies only.
From Cycle "Poems to Sonya"
1. Who has left — let him sing! Heart…
Who has left — let him sing! Heart,
Sing away!
Now the ruddy mouth is mine,
Yours — next day.
Ah, but everyone is friend
Of rose-beauty.
There are many such like you
And like me.
Friend will tear from a friend
Flower rose —
Rose can be torn apart: there's
Nothing worse.
Over the pink mouth to fight
Rather than —
Better is to kiss the boy
In his turn!
Hundred girlfriends has the friend —
We're all here.
While he is not taken yet
Do love him.
2. In the forest a bird chirped…
In the forest a bird chirped,
Under window, organ grinder.
"You're a liar, traitor,
You're a traitor, liar."
In the chorus sang
Devils from a barrel:
"All of you, my girl,
I sold for a dime."
Cows in the grass:
"You are having amoo-ours!"
Sheepdogs in an alley:
"Fool, aurs, aurs."
Lady with a beard
Thought herself to drown:
"That is nothing, babe!
Water'll bear you down!"
Comb your hair now,
Wash out your clear eyes.
One dear threw you down
And another'll raise!
3. The rain is knocking at my window…
The rain is knocking at my window.
The worker creaks at the machine.
I truly once was a street singer
And you were a nobleman's son.
I sang about the evil fortune,
And from the golden handrail
You gave not ruble and not kopeck —
You gave me as a gift a smile.
But the old knight the plan discovered:
He tore the medals from his son
And to servant-lackey he did order
To chase the girl from the yard.
And I got drunk within that night, too!
But in the blissful world — that —
I was the daughter of a nobleman
You were a singer on the street.
You won't chase me away anytime…
x x x
You won't chase me away anytime:
They don't push away the spring!
I too tenderly sing before sleep:
With a finger you won't push away me!
Never will you make me glorious:
Water for lips is my name!
You will never leave me either:
Door is open, empty is your home!
To rule troika and guitar…
x x x
To rule troika and guitar
Means: to rule each ever
Lady, means: with old beer
To circle overhead!
O handsome one! Halfbreed!
Who baptized you? In what font?
All the gypsy snowstorms
Opened up your vest
O the brave guitarist!
Eh, I fear — your strings and hollows
Will discard me down to lie!
God be with you, driver Sergei!
Women are Russia and I!
That same youth, and these same holes…
x x x
That same youth, and these same holes,
And the same nights at the fire..
Sister of your own guitar
Is my divine, holy lyre.
To circle souls just like a snowstorm —
One is the gift that us befalls.
Into my sleeping crib is lowered
This title: Stealer of the souls!
Breaking the arms in angst, you know:
Not one alone in the day's fog
With poison gypsy broth of parting
The young noblemen you do drug.
Know: not alone on the sharp knife
You look with anguish in your blood
Know, I'm alone still.. we're sisters
In the great lowliness of love.
Who's made of stone, who's made of mud…
x x x
Who's made of stone, who's made of mud,
And I'm made from silver and shine.
My act is betrayal, my name is Marina,
The fragile sea foam am I.
Who is made from mud, who is made from flesh —
There's coffin and coffin plates..
Baptized in a sea font and unceasingly
Broken in my flight!
Through every heart, through every net
Will poke its head my will.
You will not make me the salt of the earth
Can you see these my loose curls?
I resurrect with each wave, pounding
Against your granite knees!
May be well the foam — the high foam —
The high foam of the seas!
I wrote on paled leaves of the fan…
x x x
I wrote on paled leaves of the fan
And on the board of slate
And on the river and sea sand,
On glass with a ring and on ice with skates —
And on the trunks, a hundred winters old,
And in the end — that everyone would know
That you are loved! Loved! Loved! Loved! —
I signed with a celestial rainbow.
How yet I wanted this, that each would bloom
For centuries with me! My fingers under!
And how thereafter I crossed out the name
Leaning my forehead on the table yonder.
But you, within the arm of sellout scribe
Pressed down! You, why you sting my soul?
Not sold by me! Inside the ring!
You — in the tablets will stay whole.
Two Songs
1. And what to tome is a chilled fire…
And what to tome is a chilled fire,
To whom the parting is a trade!
With one wave it has been brought near,
Removed with yet another wave.
Would I not with a servile anger
After my dear with a crawl creep —
I, borne to term within the belly
Not of my mother but the sea!
Bite, my dear friend, just like an apple
The entire sphere of the earth!
Conversing with a swelling water,
With me however you converse.
Like virgin born upon this planet
Won't cross the arms swinging free —
Daughter, carried within the belly
Not of your mother but the sea!
No, our girls do not weep, do not
Write, do not wait for news, yet
No, once again I go out fishing
Without drag-net, without a net!
What power is in my singing —
I alone do not know, you see —
I, borne to term within the belly
Not of my mother but the sea.
Such is my estate: I give
And give — for a whole century!
I am breaking my chest as I'm breaking
The stones that on the shore do lie!
What I mumble on a court simple,
As though an imprisoned queen —
I, borne to term in the belly
Not of my mother but the sea.
2. Yesterday you looked in my eyes…
Yesterday you looked in my eyes,
And all things slant aside right now!
Yesterday you sat before birds
And now all larks turn into crows!
I'm dumb, and you are very smart,
You live, I'm stupefied, I hear.
O cry of women of all times:
"What have I done to you, my dear?!"
Tears are to her like water, blood —
Like water, washed in blood, in tears!
Don't wait for trial or mercy: love
Is stepmother, not Mom, it's clear.
Ships bear away the ones we love,
A white road them away now bears...
And stands the moan across all earth:
"What have I done to you, my dear?"
Yesterday you lay at my feet!
Compared to China! When both hands
You forced apart from fists to palms
Life fell out like a rusty cent!
At trial, as killer of a child
I stand - not dear, and full of fear.
And I will say to you in hell:
"What have I done to you, my dear?"
I'll ask the chair, I'll ask the bed:
"Why do I suffer and am poor?"
They answer "He has kissed — now break
Upon the wheel; now kiss one more."
To live he taught in fire itself,
He threw on icy steppes, austere!
What did you, dear, do to me?
What have I done to you, my dear?
I know all — do not contradict!
Seeing anew — no more the lover!
Where love no longer does exist,
There Death the gardener comes over.
Itself — why shake the tree? In time
Ripe apple falls itself, you near.
For all, for all forgive me please,
What have I done to you, my dear!
Wind, Oh wind, sweeping away things…
x x x
Wind, Oh wind, sweeping away things,
Sweeping tracks until they're gone!
Like a red bird flying, flying
Into foreheads of white stone.
Like a long-legged dog delving
Through the oat-bearing plains.
Wind, that loses his own mind
At a skirt that's made of lace!
It's a purple epidemic,
The first missive of revolt —
Wind - gallows-bird, flighty man —
In my fist you I now hold!
Play no more on turbid places,
Heads across the snow don't beat —
You are bound in my neckerchief
By your hands and by your feet!
We will settle obligations
For your not-so-careful deeds —
Wind inside red leather coat
With a star upon the head!
I desire no love and no honor…
x x x
I desire no love and no honor:
They intoxicate — no falling away!
I don't even desire an apple
Tempting - from hawker's tray..
Something drags behind me like chain,
Soon the thunder will sound in the sky...
How I desire —
Oh how I desire —
Very quietly simply to die!
Others — with eyes or with face full of light…
x x x
Others — with eyes or with face full of light,
And I converse with wind in the night.
Not with that Italian
Zephyr oh-so-young —
Russian, blow-through,
A good one, a wide one!
Others with all flesh are in the flesh lost,
Swallow the breath from dried out lips...
And I — arms wide open — like tetanus — stall
So that the Russian wind blow out my soul!
Others — o tangles tender and strong!
No, Aeolus is doing us wrong.
Perhaps you won't melt! It's just one family
As if I am not a woman truly.
June and July. Part of nightingale tremble…
x x x
June and July. Part of nightingale tremble.
And we had something of a bird's way, when
The night of the nightingale then disturbing
We — each over ourselves — were frozen.
August is tsar. It cares not for a roulade,
It only wants October cannonade.
August is tsar. You do not need the tsars,
And I without the tsar such ones do not need!
There's officer's straightness within my stature…
x x x
There's officer's straightness within my stature,
There's officer's honor within my ribs.
I go to all torments without being stubborn:
A soldier's patience there is!
As if we had corrected this step
Sometime with a butt and with steel...
Not in vain, not in vain the Cherkessian waist
And the tight buckle of belt.
My dear father! Open the gates of heaven
With a storm — when the dawn I sense!
As if deliberately for the hike bag
The width of the shoulders.
All can — some insane cripple over the cradle
Has sung me a song... From this day
Something persisted, remained and is here:
I take the word — and take aim!
And thus does my heart over Russian Republic
Screech — you can feed, or no way! —
As if I myself had been officer also
In deadly October days.
Wolf
Then a friendship, now a duty.
Brother wolf, God be with you!
Our friendship is now dying:
I'm not gift but debt for you.
Disturb a verst with a verst,
Send a verst into a verst!
I have petted on a fur —
And I have been missing angst!
I'm not making you a villain —
It's not your guilt, it is my sin:
With my insatiability
I am feeding everyone!
To go after you with silicon
Fire in forest — thus judged Lord —
Girls are jealous of just one thing:
That the paws would not grow cold.
To hold — I won't move a finger:
Finger — not pole, great is wood.
Take away with you your gray spots,
Brother fang, be with you God!
Fare thee well, I won't remember
In my dreams, you, O gray hide!
To believe in the wolf's grayness
One more idiot you will find.
To a Stranger
Your banners — not mine!
Our heads apart.
Not to betray in the Snake's vice
My Pigeon — Spirit.
Not to start in a red round dance
Around a May tree.
Higher than all earthly gates
Are heaven's gates to me.
Your victories — and not mine!
Others in hallucination!
We aren't on two ends of the Earth —
On two constellations!
What am I doing — we're jealous
Of two different stars —
I, throwing over the bridge
With a brave arm?!
Treasure more precious than the icons
I have with me.
There is another law, covering
The laws — you hear?
Before him all wedges incline,
Dim precious stones.
The law of a stretched-out arm,
Flung open soul.
And we'll be judged with the same
Measure, know.
And heaven in which I believe
Will take us both.
O love! O love! In the convulsions, in the coffin…
x x x
O love! O love! In the convulsions, in the coffin,
I'll be on guard — entice — worry — and tear.
Not in the snow mound of the coffin, nor a snow mound
Of cloud, I will part with you, O my dear.
And not for this are given to me gorgeous
Two wings that weight upon my heart would lie.
Pathetic village of the eyeless, voiceless,
And swaddled I will never multiply.
No, I wheedle the arms! Your sturdy body
From out your cloth I'll beat out with one blow,
Death! For a thousand kilometers all around
The wood is burned and melted is the snow.
And if still — shoulders, wings, knees pressing —
I let you to the churchyard drive me —
It is so that, laughing over the ashes,
I'll rise like poem — or like rose bloom free!
Either at dawn or at dusk, I will die, but on which…
x x x
Either at dawn or at dusk, I will die, but on which
One of the two — can't be told from the orders, I know.
Ah, could it be that my torch could go out twice again!
At the same time at dusk and at dawn it would go!
Heaven's daughter! With a full apron of roses! Not a sprout
Violating! Went through earth in a dancing gait!
I'll die at dusk or at dawn, this I know! God won't send
After my soul like a swan the hawk-like night!
Driving away the unkissed cross with a tender hand,
In the kind sky I will seek the last greeting, I know it.
Slit of the dawn — and the slit of a smile in response...
Even in hiccup of death I will still be a poet!
Happy New Year, encampment Swan!..
x x x
Happy New Year, encampment Swan!
Ruins so glorious!
Happy New Year — in other places —
Knapsack-bearing warriors!
Dances, mouth foaming, not caught up,
The pursuit in red!
Happy New Year — beaten in the races
Homeland with a hand!
The whole Earth sings with a toast song
To the earth do lean!
Thus, Igor — with Yaroslav is crying
Russia over the sea.
With a tired moan it quenches sorrow:
My brother! My knight! My son!
Happy New Year, you across the blue sea
Russia oh-so-young.
</hr>
Student
To say — to be thoughtful of what?
In rain — under one coat,
At night — under one coat, later
To grave — under one coat.
1. To be your light-haired little fellow…
To be your light-haired little fellow —
Oh, through all years! —
To drape a student behind your dusty purple
In cloak severe.
To catch through people's density your sigh
That life does give
With soul that lives with your breath, like a cloak
With blowing wind.
More victorious than King David, with shoulder
The crowd to move.
To serve from all slights, all earthly slights
As cloak to you.
To be he who between the sleeping students
In sleep won't dream.
A shield, and not a cloak, at the first stone
That crowd brought in.
(This verse's not stopped willfully! The knife is
Sharp to no end!)
And — with inspired smile — to be the first your
Fire to ascend.
2. There is an hour — just like discarded clothes…
There is an hour — just like discarded clothes:
When in ourselves the pride we quench in full.
The hour of study, it in every life is
Triumphant-unavoidable.
The high hour, when, before the feet of one with finger
Appointed, our weapons laying down,
We change the purple of the warrior
On sand into the camel's down.
Like voice that rises us to our exertion
From self-will of the days, behold this hour!
Behold this hour when we are leaning down
From heaviness just like a ripe corn ear.
And ear grew up, and beat the happy hour,
And for the millstone did thirst the grain.
The law! The law! Still in the womb of earth
The burden I desired does remain.
The hour of study! But beheld and known
Is different light — the dawn still burns, still burns.
Blessed to him are you, following behind him
The supreme hour of loneliness!
3. Evening sun is kinder than…
Evening sun is kinder than
Sun at noon.
Screams fanatically, not warms
Sun at noon.
Meeker, more aloof is the sun
At night. Wise,
It does not want to beat
In our eyes.
Stirring with its simplicity
Made for kings,
Dearer is evening sun
To one who sings.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Crucified by darkness
Each evening,
Evening sun does not bow
To the throng.
Thebe, remember! He, cast down
From the throne.
He, cast down — looks above
Not below.
O, don't wait upon the neighboring
Bell tower!
I want to be your final
Bell tower.
4. The wooden load…
The wooden load
Below waves fell.
Two eternal ones quietly
Ascended the hill.
Tightly — shoulder to shoulder —
They stand, don't talk.
Two breaths are walking
Under one cloak.
The leader of yesterday's and
Today's sleeping wars
Silently stand by
The double black tower.
They stand wiser than serpents,
Milder than doves.
Father, take me back into
Your life above!
Smoke of the wars of the Lord
Across the sky.
Struggles the cloak, raised
With double sigh.
Prays and trembles, jealousy
Eats out the sight...
Father, take me into sunset,
Into your night!
Breathe deserts, they celebrate
The night's entry...
Son falls like a ripe fruit
Heavily.
Quiet is the human flock
Within its fold.
Calm are the two alit
On hill of gold.
5. We were like ancient ones, the hour…
We were like ancient ones, the hour
Was wonderful and full.
We side by side ascended up
The hill, I do recall.
The speech of the cascading streams
Has wound fancily
With cloak, falling on the shoulders
In a wave gracefully.
The final gold of the heights
Is higher, higher yet.
The dreaming voice: The sunrise that
Comes out to meet sunset.
6. All magnificence of…
All magnificence of
Pipes — is but murmur of
Grass — before you.
All magnificence of
Storms — is but chatter of
Birds — before you.
All magnificence of
Wings — is but patter of
Eyelids — before you.
7. On the hills — round and tan…
On the hills — round and tan,
Under the ray — dusty and strong,
With a boot — meek and mild —
After the cloak - reddened and torn.
On the sands - greedy and rusty,
Under ray — burning and drinking,
With a boot - meek and mild —
After the cloak — with trace and trace.
On the waves — angry and blown-up,
Under the ray — wrathful and ancient,
With a boot — meek and mild —
After the cloak — lying and lying...
Marina
1. His dove to be, like an eagle!..
His dove to be, like an eagle!
More than a mother to be, Marina!
A messenger — a guard — a courier —
A flag-bearer - flatterer of the court!
With a seraph and dog to guard
A sleep restless and full of fear.
Taking a pack of sallow cards for a game,
Legs in stirrup! — through water and flame!
Where on horse — where to swim — where to crawl!
By the swamp — by the willows - by the reeds —
And where horse does not take - fly, all winds
Having captured in your shawl!
In a black noiseless whirlwind flying,
Not a lady — a handy, I am!
Not to be sole — the second!
A twin — a double — slender
Godbrother in flame of bonfire,
To be his crooked friend.
Clamor of Kremlin's uninvited guests.
If Basmanov is your name, set
Aside — yield before love!
Threw open a chest kerchief, I.
Arms wide open! That on Judgment Day
Will not stand in Basmanov's blood.
2. Three usurpers' wife…
Three usurpers' wife,
Daughter of arrogant Mnishka,
You did not birth a son
To your husband so proud.
In bare-headed sleep
In resounding window flight
You did not wave a trace
To your husband so proud.
On the square full of fate
From spits and boxes on ear
You did not cover with body
Your own husband so proud.
In a foolish mask lay,
With bloody pipe in the mouth.
You did not wipe the sweat
Of your husband so proud.
Oh the treacherous blood!
Be accursed, be accursed.
You that to false Dimitry was false Marina!
3. Heart, betrayal!..
Heart, betrayal!
But never parting!
And the tan arm of the thief
To the white lips.
Short concussion of bones on the plates.
Gregory! Dimitry!
Tsar-killers! Blood and fluff!
And — with the second jump —
On the spears!
4. "Your chest is redolent…
"Your chest is redolent,
Just like a rosemary trunk...
A most honorable lady..."
"My young honored one..."
"I'm dark, unrecognized, quiet...
With what shall I repay...
From underneath the eyelids
Something, "With life!" did say.
In every chased-down stranger
We are serving Jesus Sir.
Mangles in mangled confusion
Handful of genuine pearls.
Pearls have been sprinkled — like tears!
Aiming with every eyelash,
He sees, while stranger picks up
Them, as if fidgeting in ash.
From Cycle "Parting"
1. So long ago thrown down…
So long ago thrown down
I raise the arms.
In empty black window
Empty arms
I throw in the midnight beating
Of hours — to go home
I want! Thus: head down
From the tower! Home!
In whisper and rustle:
Not on the stone of a square...
My wing was shot
By some young warrior.
2. More sharply, more sharptly…
More sharply, more sharptly
Your arms do twist!
Between us are heavenly
Rivers — not versts,
Between us are parting's lands azure,
Where forever inseparable
Are I and you.
In silver harness
The highway runs.
I don't twist the arms!
Without sound
I only pull them
Like mountain-ash waves
Into the parting,
Into the stork flock's trace.
Without looking back
The stork flock aspires,
Conceit I won't doff!
In death — well-attired
I'll be — your golden-feathered speed is
The final bulwark
In loss of space!
3. With a dark olive…
With a dark olive
Hide head of bed,
Jealous of earthly
Love are the gods.
Every rustle
And whisper they hear.
Know, not just to you
The youth is dear.
Someone is mad at
Luxury of May.
Be careful of
The sharp-eyed sky.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
That rocks and cliffs
Lure him, you claim,
That copper-voiced
Call of fame
Lures him — to depth,
Chest on the spear?
The rising wave
Drowns him — you conjure?
Sting of the fortune
Pierced — you see?
Deeper than disgrace
Is tsar's mercy.
That you wander late in the
Low lands you shed tears.
Invisible, not the
Earth-born you should fear.
On sight of the comb
To them is each hair.
Gods have a thousand
Eyes to spare.
Fear not the quicksand —
Fear sky's blue!
Insatiable
Is heart of Zeus.
4. Quietly…
Quietly
With an arm careful and thin
I'll untangle the tangles:
Arms — and with neighing
Obedient, will rustle the amazon
On empty and resounding steps of parting.
Stomps his feet and neighs
In the lit flight the winged one. In the eyes —
Flaming of dawn.
Little arms, little arms!
You call in vain:
The staircase of Lethe pours them between.
5. Big you won't see…
Big you won't see,
You won't see me gray.
You won't press the tears
From motionless eyes.
For all of your torment.
Crying is the battle:
Put down your arm!
Leave the mantle!
In apathy's
Stone-eyed cameo
Like mother I won't
Tarry in the door:
(With heaviness of
Blood, knees, eye —
In the final earthly
Time!)
Not with a crawling wounded beast
No, with a lump of rock
To leave the door —
From life. What for
Do the tears pour,
When the stone is lifted
From shoulders of yours?
Not a stone! Already
With an eagle's width
Is the cloak! And already by river of azure
Into the city of light, where
The mother
To take her kid
Would not dare.
<6>. With silver growth…
With silver growth
He tore up and away.
That Zeus would not
See him —
Pray!
At the first rustle
Be fearful and stand.
They're jealous of
Beauty of man.
Their call is scarier
Than jaw of a beast.
Jealous of beauty
Is the gods' nest.
With flowers, with laurels
They'll lure up and away.
That Zeus would not
Choose him —
Pray!
In thunder of eagles'
Wings is the sky.
With all chest shatter —
That you won't hide.
In eagles' thunder —
O beak! O blood!
The tiny lamb
Is hanging — Love..
Bare-headed,
With chest - prostate..
That Zeus would not
Raise him —
Pray!
<7>. Your......features…
Your......features
Imprinted once begun.
I'll become older, and you
Will remain still young.
Your......features,
Sharpened by burning wind.
I'll be hunched over, and you
Will elegantly stand.
Midday shade of the hair,
That to my gray spots lean...
My age, day to day, year to year,
Will eventually become my son...
Together we were thirty-six
A beautiful pair we were...
And - with a rainbow — a good news:
.................. — I won't be old!
<8>. The final beauty…
The final beauty,
Last heaviness yet:
The child, hitting palms
At my feet.
But this final beauty
I'll take care of no less
And I'll throw down this
Last heaviness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Stinging with inspired
Women's flattery,
As if not a teen but
A lover at the feet —
About the wanderings —
Along the amazed Universe
Under the laurel rain,
Under the oak rain.
The beauty final,
The heaviness final —
The child, the cloak grasping..
In torment born! When you'll tell the people
That there was no equal
In art of parting!
Links — Ссылки
© Ilya Shambat, Translation. Can be reproduced if non-commercial.
