m jealous of you With such a jealousy! Yes, I also disturb you With my angst already. And this my miserable nature In you is most awfully clear: In your without two months two years - You're in despair. All dolls in whole wide world, all horses You'll give without a second thought For one page from my notebook And pencil I bought. You're in a fight with maids - you want All things by yourself done. Then suddenly you're in despair: "The sea's gone home." However proudly I speak of you, I can't transmit you all about When you are asking me, "Mother, Please kiss my snout." You know, all in me is laughing When somebody once again Attempts to kiss you In vain. I am the snake that took the princess, A dragon! Groom of grooms! O light Of my eyes - O the jealousy Of my night! From Cycle "P.E." 1 Clad in the golden dust of evening An August day did quietly melt. The ringing streetcars rushed onwards And people went. I went along a quiet side street Without aim, absent-mindedly. And I remember how the church bells Sang quietly. I decided all things on the way Imagining your pose: Am I, or am I not, to bring To you a rose? And I was readying a phrase, Forgotten afterward, Alas - And suddenly - no wait! - at once! That self-same house. With many stories, looking bored... I count the windows, here's the porch. Unwittingly, cross on the neck The hands do search. I count the gray steps, that are leading Me to the flame. I ring the bell. Here for thinking. There is no time. I but remember roar of thunder And my two hands, as cold as ice. I call for you. - He is at home, He'll come at once. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- May with my youth the years bear out What's unforgotten, one and all. The paint upon the colored wallpaper I will recall. And glass-beads of the lampshade, and The sound of some strange voices and Port Arthur and the dull clock beating Overhead. The moment, long, in the least measure - Like hour. But steps from afar. And you have entered. Here's the squeaking Of open door. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- And there at once was fascination. He leaned down, simple like a king. And two stars in awe and terror Were glimmering. And squinting them, so huge, you did not Know of the tender face so dear, Still one more moment - what a tempest Played here. I struggled like a hero. Even You and I once together dined! A muted voice I do remember And lips' outline. And hair, fluffier than down, And - the most dear! - The gorgeous wrinkles of laughter Your long eyes near. And I recall - you sat right there, I, here - but you do forget. What effort all this cost to me, What minutes yet - To sit, giving off reams of smoke, And to observe silence complete ... It was intolerable to me Like this to sit. You do recall this conversation Of weather and of letter "e." Behold, you know, for such a strange dinner There cannot be. In a half-turn, in a half-darkness I laugh, not waiting for myself: "Eyes of a thoroughbred dog, Count, Farewell." -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Lost and without aim completely I walked an alley dark as well And, seemingly, there was no singing Of the bell. 2 When he did live everyone loved him Eternal loyalty did vow, Carry the wreaths out of the lilies Onto fresh snow. Over his miserable lodgings For a brief minute go slow That he would not for too long shiver On this first snow. Warm, melt the icy blood inside him With breath of body and of soul! But if at once the love inside is Already cold - To lover - love the brother even, The child on forehead wears a wreath - He can hug no one in the coffin After his death. Ah, he, whom you so loved, for whose sake You would have gone into hell's vault - That he is now in a coffin Is not his fault! From rustling of steps and of dress Trembling from head down to your feet - How he'd discover your embraces, Whene'er could he! O women! For each one among you He became ash and madness all! With what thirst, fully, did he love you, You must recall! Recall, how you caught From his eyes each look, Recall the former vows you've spoken In the night's dark. Thus you will not become disloyal Before his cross so nondescript, And each should quietly remember His lip. And before rushing onwards In sled with gypsy bell, go slow, And with your faces fall down Into night snow. Let it your cheeks tenderly sprinkle, And melt in droplets near your eyes.. I am among you one as I am Writing these lines - I won't break vows I have not taken - Life - your brown eyes - And for the soul of Love herself, O women, pray! 3 The leaves are scattered above your tombstone And winter's smell. Listen, the dead one, listen, O dear one: You're my own still. You laugh! - Moon is high - in the roadside cabin Full of charm. My - so undoubted and unchanging - Like this arm. To hospital doors with a knot in the morning I'll come again. You simply have gone to the great wide seas, To sunny land. I kissed you! I charmed you! I laugh at this darkness Beyond the tomb! I disbelieve death! I wait at the terminal - Come home. May leaves all be scattered, erased and washed out On mourning ribbon the words. And, I am also dead, if you're dead For the whole world. I see and I feel - I sense you everywhere - What's ribbon from wreaths of yours - I did not forget you and will not forget you Forevermore. I know the aimlessness of such a promise Its pointlessness too. Letter to endlessness - letter to limitlessness - Letter into the blue. 4 Here's your roses - pull your hands toward them - Having gone farther than the sea, dear friend! My dear friend, having with you born out The most precious treasures of the land. I am robbed and deceived - There's no letter, No ring in my memory! How the features are memorable to me Of your face, wondering for centuries. How memorable is the asking, attentive Stare - inviting to sit near - And the worldy flattery of the dying And the smile from the great Afar - My dear friend, gone to sailing eternally - A fresh hillock among other mounds! Pray that there will not be other sailors Ensconced in your heavenly sound. From Cycle "Girlfriend" 1 You're happy? You won't say! Barely! Better let go! You kissed too many, I do think, Therefrom, sorrow. All heroines of Shakespeare's tragedies In you I see. Nobody saved you, you the young Tragic lady. You are so tired of repeating Love's charm! Eloquent, the pig iron bracelet On bloodless arm. I love you. - Like a thundercloud Above you - sin - Because you're best of all and caustic And sting, Because in darkness of the roads differ Our lives and we, For your inspired enticement and Dark destiny, Because to you, my round-headed demon, "Forgive" I'll say, Because you - tear apart above the coffin! - Cannot be saved! For this trembling, because - is it not so - I have a dream? - For the ironic beauty of this, That you - aren't he. 2 Under caresses of an ivy Plaid I recalled yesterday's dream. Whose victory? Who's been defeated? What has it been? Rethinking everything once more, Torturing myself once again. In this, for which no word I know, Had love ever been? Who was the hunter? Who - the hunted? All is reversed as if by Satan! What did the loudly purring Siberian Cat, understand? In this self-willing one another Who in whose hand was but a ball? Whose heart flew - yours or mine, Do you recall? And still again - what has it been too? What do I want, what do I pity? And I don't know: Did I win? Did somebody Conquer me? 3 Today was melting, and today Before the window I did stand. A sober look, a freer chest, I'm satisfied just once again. I don't know why. Perhaps the soul Has simply grown tired withal, And somehow the rebellious pencil I do not wish to touch at all. Distant to good and evil both, Inside the fog I stood, and thus, Was lightly drumming with my finger Upon the barely sounding glass. It is indifferent to the soul Than this one you first met - say I - Than mother-of-the-pearl mud puddles Where in full pleasure splashed the sky, Than bird that overhead is flying And dog that's simply running by And even the impoverished singer Did not begin to make me cry. The dear art of oblivion The soul has mastered all the way. Some overwhelmingly big feeling Melted within my soul today. 4 You were too lazy to get dressed, Too lazy to get up for me. And every following day for you Would have been happy with my glee. To come so late on a cold night Embarrassed you especially. And every following hour for you Would have been young with this my glee. I was the youth that passed you by - You did this without ill intent, Your actions were in every way Incorrigible, innocent. 5 Today, around eight, dashing through Big Lubanka straight ahead, Like bullet, like snowball, Somewhere rushed the sled. Already the laughter rang... I froze as I peered: Red down of the hair And somebody tall was near! We were with another, and opened Another sled route entire, With wished-for and dear to me - More strongly, than I - desired. "O, je n'en puis plus, j'etouffe!" - You screamed in full voice of yours, And boldly went tucking in The hollow of fur on her. World is happy, and evening is bold! From the muff purchases fly... Thus you rushed in a snowstorm, Coat to coat, eye to eye. And cruelest mutiny happened, And white snow did pour. I followed you with my eyes For two seconds - and no more. And caressed the longish nap Upon his coat - without wrath. O Snow Queen! Your little Kai Is frozen to death. 6 Just like a young plant sprout The neck is high and free. Who'll tell the name, who - years, Who - place, who - century? The curve of not bright lips Is capricious and wan, But blinding is the terraced Forehead of Beethoven. Clean to endearment Is the molten oval. A hand, in which a whip would do, And - in the silver - opal. Hand, meriting a fiddlestick, Gone into precious silk, A beautiful hand also, A hand that is unique. 7 You on your road pass me by, And your hand do not touch I. But my angst is eternal yet, That you be the first I met. Heart said "Dear!" at once I forgave you all by chance, Knowing nothing - not even the name! Love me, love me, I proclaim. From the curve of your lips with one glance I see their forced arrogance, By above brows jutting out: This heart storms, no doubt. With a black silk armor - dress, Voice with gypsy hoarseness, Until pain I like all things in thee, Even that you are not a beauty. Beauty, in summer won't wilt! Not a flower - you're a stalk made of steel, Meaner than mean, sharper than sharp, dear, From what island born away here? With a rod you do wonders, with a fan - In each bone and in each vein, In the form of each finger full of rage - Woman's tenderness, boy's courage. Parrying all ridicules with verse I open for you and the Universe All that's ready in you then Stranger with forehead of Beethoven! 8 Under sun the eyes are burning, Day's not equal day. I tell you for that occasion If I would betray: Whose lips I had not been kissing In the hour of love, To whom I upon black midnight Did not scarily vow - To live, like a flower blooms, like Mother tells a child, Never with an eye to go To any side.. See that cross made of cypress? It's familiar to you. All will wake - you only whistle Under my window. 9 I'll repeat in hour of parting When love comes to end That I loved, yes that I loved these Your masterful hands And the eyes - somebody isn't Gifted with a glance! - Those that answer are demanding For a look by chance. You with your thrice-cursed passion - God sees all, say I! And demanding a payment for An accidental sigh. And I tiredly say, to listen Hurry not at all! Why is it that your own soul Stands across my soul. And again I'll also tell you: All the same - start this! - Far too young was this my mouth For your gentle kiss. Glance is luminous and daring, Heart - like five year old... Happy's he who did not meet you On your road. 10 Before a mirror, where there's fog And turbid sleep, your way I want to try - where it will lead And where there is the quay. I see: the mast upon a ship, And you - on deck, standing... You - in the smoke of train... the fields In lament of evening The ravens flying overhead, The evening fields in dew... In all the four directions I Am truly blessing you. 11 The clock - what time it is? Rang out. Hollows of giant eyes, Watered satin of the dress.. I just about see you, I guess, Just about. The neighboring porch Has turned off the light. Somewhere they love too much.. Your face's sketch Is a scary sight. It's semi-dark in the room, One is the night. Pierced by the light of the moon Window deepened - Like ice sheet. "You give up" - the voice burst. "I didn't fight by choice." Voice from the moon catches frost. Voice - like from hundred verst This same voice! Between us stood ray of moon, Moving the world everywhere. Intolerably shone Metal red-brown Of crazy hair. Run of the moon forgot History's run. Mirror breaks moon apart. Knocking of hooves far apart, Screeching of a cart. Light on the street burned down, Running fades. A cock will sing soon Parting for two young Ladies. x x x Insanity - and good reason, Disgrace - and honor, All, that brings on thoughtfulness, Is spilling over - In me. - All the penal passions Become as one! - All images wage war inside This hair of mine! The lover's whisper, all around By rote I know, Experience of twenty two years Nothing but sorrow! But - won't you say - innocently pink Look I, I'm virtuoso's virtuoso In art of lies. In her let out like a ball, Caught once again, The blood of Polish great-grandmoms Is evident. I lie because in cemeteries The grass does grow, I lie because in cemeteries Snowstorm does blow... From violin - from automobile - From silk, from fire... From torment that not only me They all desired! From pain, that I am not the bride Of the groom... From poem and gesture - for the gesture And for the poem! From tender boa on the neck... And how can I Not lie - when my voice sounds more tender When I do lie... x x x I like it that you're burning not for me, I like it that it's not for you I'm burning And that the heavy sphere of Planet Earth Will underneath our feet no more be turning I like it that I can be unabashed And humorous and not to play with words And not to redden with a smothering wave When with my sleeves I'm lightly touching yours. I like it, that before my very eyes You calmly hug another; it is well That for me also kissing someone else You will not threaten me with flames of hell. That this my tender name, not day nor night, You will recall again, my tender love; That never in the silence of the church They will sing "halleluiah" us above. With this my heart and this my hand I thank You that - although you don't know it - You love me thus; and for my peaceful nights And for rare meetings in the hour of sunset, That we aren't walking underneath the moon, That sun is not above our heads this morning, That you - alas - are burning not for me And that - alas - it's not for you I'm burning. x x x My ancestor was a rider, A thief, man with violin. Is this not why my taste wanders And hair smells of wind? Does not he steal from a car, Tan, apricots with my hand, The author of my passionate fate, Hook-nosed and curly-haired. Twirling between teeth a wild rose He wondered at tiller with plough.. He was a bad comrade - and wild And tender he was at love! Moon, beads, pipe and neighboring girls - All of them - he loved. I also think that my yellow-eyed Ancestor was a coward. That, having sold soul to Devil for a pence At midnight he did not go By cemetery; that he carried a knife Behind a boot-leg, so. That many a time from a corner he jumped Like a cat, agile and thin.. And somehow I understood that he did Not play on a violin. And somehow all was not fitting to him, Like in the summer - last year's snow. Such a violinist my ancestor was. I became such a poet - so. x x x Sleep the rattles and dogs of neighbors - Not one voice, not one car. O lover, do not investigate Why I am parting the bar. New moon to a midnight is going: Hour of monks - and of sharp-eyed birds, Hour of youths and conspirators, Hour of lovers and murderers. Here each person's thought is double, Here, rider, hurry the horse. We will pass, not jingling with bracelets And not tinkling with a purse. Now the houses part with houses, On the square there is talk and dance.. Here, before a small Mother of God, Cordoba did its love pronounce. Here, upon a stone porch, By the fountain we'll sit silently, Where you first for my face were aiming With wolf's eyes. Rustling of silk around the knees, Smell of rose and a lock of hair.. O, beloved one - see, she's here - Carmen the poisoner! x x x There is no day's temptation In a folio in which people die. To woman - all of the planet, To woman - Ars Amandi. Heart - of a lovers' potion Heart - is more loyal than all. Somebody's mortal sin is Woman from the cradle. Ah, so far to the heaven! Lips - in the dark are near.. God, do not judge! On the planet A woman you never were. x x x The gypsy passion of parting! You meet it - and you take flight! I dropped the arms and the forehead And think staring into the night: No one, digging in our letters, Understood in all depth How we're sacrilegious - that is How we in each other have faith. Poems about Moscow 1 Clouds - all around, Cupolas - around, Over all Moscow Many arms are wound!- I am lifting you, my best burden you Oh my little tree Flying weightlessly! In this wonder-town, In this peaceful town, Where if I were dead I'd be happy one, To be king for you, and to grieve for you, A wreath to take on, Oh my one firstborn! You to Sacrament bow Do not blacken brows And all forty - count - Forty churches now. You with steps do walk - with a young one's walk - All the many thrills Of the seven hills. Time will come for you: And the daughters - too You will give Moscow With sweet sorrow. My sleep by my will, like a ringing bell, Early dawns above - On the Vagankov. 2 From my hands - not a hand-created town, My gorgeous brother, my strange one. Upon the church - Forty times forty, side by side, And pigeons that above them glide. And Spassky - with flowers - gate, Where Orthodox Believer doffs his hat. The starry belltower - haven from sin - Where from the people's kisses floor is clean. Incomparable five-cathedral round Accept, my ancient and inspired friend. To Unexpected Joy in the garden I'll lead my guest from foreign land. The sleepless bells will ring, will shine The cupolas of gold very fine, And a cloth will be dropped by Mother of God Upon you from the purple clouds. And you will get up, full of divine power.. And you won't repent that you were my lover. 3 Past the towers at night We are rushed by squares. Oh, how roar of soldiers In the night instills fear! Rumble, loud heart! Kiss with passion, love! This roar is so bestial! Daring - oh - is blood! My mouth is aflame, Given that sight's divine. Like a golden chest Iverskaya does shine. You stop picking quarrels And a candle light, That it won't be now With you as I'd like. 4 The day will come - a sad day, they say! They'll finish ruling, finish crying, burn away - Chilled with the others' nickels all the same - My eyes, moveable like the flame. And - like a double as his double he does sense - The likeness will appear through light face. O, I at last will merit thee, A gorgeous belt of beauty! And from afar - do I envy thee? - Will pull, absently cristening, A pilgrimage along the road black To my hand, which I surely won't draw back, To my hand, on which the ban no longer sits, To my hand, that no more exists. Your kisses, O the living ones, I won't oppose at first - not one. The majesty's shawl beautiful Has shrouded me from head to heel. Nothing will make me blush, today I have a holy Easter day. Along the streets of left-alone Moscow I will drive forth, and you will slowly go. And none will lag behind along the road, And on coffin's roof will thunder the first stone - And sleep, self-loving and lonely Will be resolved finally. And nothing will be needed to Marina Our newly-introduced ballerina. 5 Above the city Peter cursed to hell Rolled the delirious thunder of the bells. Turned over thundering the high tide of the sea Above the woman that was rebuked by thee. To Peter and to you, O Tsar, praise be! But bells are higher still than both of ye. While they are ringing still out of the blue - Indisputable, Moscow's primogeniture. And sixteen hundred churches, near and far All laugh at puny hubris of the tsars. 6 The rain of bells drizzles above The blue of near-Moscow groves. Blind men wander the Kaluga road - Beautiful - Kaluga - song, and the same Washes and washes the names Of peaceful wanderers, in darkness of ones praising God. And I think at these times: Someday I Of you, friends, and you, enemies, having tired, And of compliance of Russian word - A silver cross on my chest I will don Cross myself and quietly go along The old Kaluga road. 7 Seven hills - just like seven bells! Belltowers on the seven bells. Sixteen hundred of them, to count them all. Full of bells are these Moscow's seven hills! In the ringing, fine-gold day of John The Baptist was born. House like gingerbread, And around a hedge, and around a hedge, And the churches there stand with golden heads. And as nuns were pouring to dining hall, The first ringing I did love, I did love And the sorceress from a neighbor's yard And hot sleep and noise in the stove. Do conduct me, all you imbecile, Thieving, flagellant Moscow crowd! Priest, shut my mouth more tightly still With the ringing-bell Moscow's ground! 8 Moscow - what a giant And strangely-mannered home! In Russia all are homeless. We all to you will come. A knife behind a boot-leg, A shoulder brand in shame. From far away us all You will call all the same. Upon the penal brandings, On every kind of ill - A baby Panteleimon We have, O man who heals, And there behind that door, Where all the people pour - There the fine golden heart Is burning of Iver. And "Halleluiah" pours Upon the fields grown tan. I kiss you in the bosom, O the Moscow land! 9 With a red brush The mountain-ash burned: The leaves were falling And I was born. Hundreds of belltowers Argued at least. It was the Saturday: John the Baptist. And in my teeth now I want to crush The hot ashberry's Bitter brush. From Cycle "Insomnia" 1 In a shady ring my eyes She surrounded - insomnia. With a shady wreath insomnia Did my eyes bind. At night - the same! To idols don't pray. Idol-worshipper - I'll give Your secret away. To you - day's not enough, Fire of sun above! You pale-faced one, wear My rings' pair! You screamed - and proclaimed The wreath of shade. Enough - did you - call me? Enough - did you - sleep with me? People bow to you. Light in face you'll lie. I'll be reader to you, I, insomnia: Sleep, soothed, Sleep, rewarded one, Sleep, wreathed, Woman. That - you would sleep - easy, I will sing - to thee: "Never-silent one, Go to sleep, my girl, You the sleepless one, Sleep, my little pearl." And to whom we didn't write letters so, And to whom we did not vow.. Sleep. Here now parted are The inseparable. Here released from arms Are your little arms. Here you're tormented, My dear tormentess. Sleep's - holy. All - sleep. Wreath's - gone. 2 In my giant city it is night. From the sleepy home I alight People think: Daughter and wife And I recall just this: Night. On my way blows the wind of July And somewhere music in a window - barely. Ah, now the wind will blow until dawn Into the chest through the chest's thin wall. There's light on the window, and a black poplar, A flower in the hand, and ringing in the tower, And this step nobody behind, And this my shade, but me you can't find. Fires - like threads of golden beads, Taste of night leaf between my teeth. Free me from shackles of the day, That I'm your dream, friends, understand. 3 After a sleepless night the body gets weaker, It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's. Just like a seraph you smile to people And arrows moan in the slow arteries. After a sleepless night the arms get weaker And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe. Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each Sudden sound is the whole rainbow. Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night Only just one thing - the eyes - are growing dark. 4 This night today I am alone in the night - A sleepless and a homeless nun! This night today I have the keys Of all the gates of capital, just one! The sleeplessness has pushed me on the way. O, dusky Kremlin, how you're beautiful! I kiss into the chest this night today The whirling-round ground as it does howl! The stifling wind blows straight into the soul, The hair arises - not the hair, but down. Those who are pitied and those who are kissed - This night today I pity everyone. 5 A window here again Where they don't sleep again. Maybe they thus sit, Maybe they drink wine. Or they would not part Simply the two hands. There is such a window In each house, friend. Window in the night - Partings', meetings' scream! Maybe - hundred candles, Maybe - only three. And my restless mind Cannot find its peace. In my very home Was begotten this. Pray, friend, for the sleepless home Behind a window with a flame! From Cycle "Poems to Blok" 1 A bird in the hand is your name, An icicle on the tongue is your name, One movement of your lips is your name, Five letters is your name. A ball caught in the flight it is, A silver tambourine between the lips, A stone, into a quiet pond thrown, Will sob the name by which you're known. Your loud name resonates in the light Crackling of the hooves in the night. And a trigger with crackling ample Will call it back into the temple. Your name - forbid this! - Your name - the eyes kiss, In tender chill of motionless eyelids Your name - to the snow give a kiss. Key, ice, blue gulp - deep With your name is the sleep. 2 A knight without reproach, A ghost, a gentle one, Who is it that called you Into my life so young? In fog greyish-blue Dressed in a chausible Of snow, stand you. Around the city By the wind I'm chased, For the third evening A thief I sensed. The blue-eyed Singer of snow Stared at me so. The snow-white swan Puts down under my feet. Flow Feathers And slowly fall on the snow. Thus on the feathers I walk to the door Behind which is death. Beyond blue windows He sings to me, With far-away tambourines He sings to me, With far-off cry With swan's cry He calls. My dear ghost! All's my dream, I know. Do a good thing: Amen, amen, scatter so! Amen. 3 You walk out to the Falling Sun, You'll see the evening light, You walk out to the Falling Sun, And the snowstorm the trace blots out. Past the windows - passionless - In the quiet snow you will go, My beautiful believer in true God, Quiet to the light of my soul. I do not lust after your soul! Your footpath is inviolable. Into the arm, white from the kisses, I will not hammer my nail. And I will not respond to the name, And I will not pull with my arm, To the sacred image of wax I will only bow from afar. And, standing under the slow snow, I will fall on my knees in the snow, And in your holy name I will kiss the evening snow - There, where with a majestic foot In the coffin quiet you did go, Quiet to light - holy glories - You the keeper of my soul. 4 To beast - a den, To wanderer - road To dead one - quay To each - their own way. To a woman - to connive, To the king - to rule, To me - to glory Your name. 5 Cupolas are burning in Moscow! Bells are ringing here in Moscow! And coffins here stand in row - In them queens do sleep, and the kings. And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn Breathing's lighter - than on all the earth! And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn Till the dawn I pray and sing. And you walk on by this your Nieva At the time, when on river Moskva I stand and my head bow And the flashlights cling. With insomnia I am loving you, With insomnia I am hearing you - Of the time when, on the whole Kremlin too Awaken those who ring.. But my river - with your river flows, And my arm - with your arm goes They won't come together, Oh my joy Dawn catches dawn until. 6 They thought he was a man! And they forced him to die. He died forevermore. About a dead angel, cry! He sang the evening beauty At sundown of the day. Shimmer hypocritically Three waxen flames. Rays went from him - On the snow, hot strings! Three candles of wax - To the sun! Light-bearing! O look now, how his Dark eyelids have sunken in! O look now, how his Wings are broken! The black reader reads, Crosses the arms idle... The dead singer lies And celebrates Sunday. 7 Like a weak ray through black gloom of the hells - Thus is your voice against exploding cannonballs. And in the thunder, just like some seraph Announces in a voice tone-deaf - Somewhere from foggy mornings long ago - How he did love us blind and nameless so - For sin - disloyalty, for coat of blue.. For how, Russia, he did not stop loving you, And more tender than all - that, the most deep Into night vanished he to do the wicked deeds! And near the temple - how with a lost pen He leads and leads.. and about that then, What days await us, how God will tell lies, How you will call the sun - and it won't rise! Thus, as one with prisoner (Or child is silent in the sleep no more) Before us came - on square wide and far - Alexander Blok's holy heart. 8 Here is he - look - tired of the foreign lands, A chief without friends. Here -drinks from mountain rapids with his hand - A knight with no land. There's all for him: knighthood, and land, Mother, and bread. Great's your inheritance - so rule this land, Friend without friends! 9 His friends - do not bother him! His servants - do not bother him! It was so evident on his face: Not from this world does my kingdom come. Eternal snowstorms circled the veins Hunched-over shoulders bent from the wings, In singing cut, into baked-over flame He let his soul go like a swan. Fall then, O fall then, copper heavy! Wings are ordained correctly: To fly! Lips, that have shouted the word: Respond! - They know, that this is not there - to die! He drinks the dawn, drinks the sea - in full Revels. - Don't serve the requiem! Of one who forever ordered: Be! - There is enough bread left to feed him! 10 Not a broken rib - A broken wing. Not to the shooters shot - Through chest. Not to take out This bullet. Wing can't be repaired. He walked impaired. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Sticky is crown of thorns on the head! What is the noise of mob to one dead, The swan's down of woman's flattery... He walked, deaf and lonely, Freezing over the sunsets With emptiness of eyeless statues. But one thing still lived in him: The broken wing. 11 Without word, without call - Like a thatcher from the roof falls. And maybe, again He comes - you lie in the cradle? You burn and don't dim, The light of weeks several.. Which of the mortals Rocks your cradle? The blessed heaviness! Singing chestnut that prophesies! Oh, who will tell me In which cradle you lie? "While it's not sold!" With jealousy in my head With a great detour I'll walk the Russian land. The midnight countries Will go from end to end. Where's his wound the mouth, His eyes' bluish lead? Take him! Hold tightly! To love him and love him only! O, who will whisper In which cradle you lie? Pearly grains, Muslin shade full of sleep. Not laurel but thorn - Sharp-toothed shade of a cap. Not angel, but bird Opened two white wings! And to be born once more, That could be swept by the wind?! Tear him! Hold tightly! Just don't give away! Hold high! Oh, who will breathe to me In which cradle you lie? And maybe false is My feat, and my labor futile. How you're put in the ground, Maybe - you'll sleep till pipe call. The giant indenture Of your temples - catches my sight. Such an exhaustion - Can't be lifted even with pipes! The country pasture, Rusty, quiet reliably. The janitor will show me In which cradle you lie. 12 Like drunk, like sleepy Unawares, without caution, The dimples of temples: Sleepless conscience. Empty eye sockets: All dead and light. Empty glass of a dreamer And man with second sight. Not you on Still rustling pile of garbage Carried out - Returning by Hades' gorge? Did not this, Ringing with a silver bell, Head flow past The sleepy Gebr? 13 Thus, O the Lord! And this my prayer Accept for temple's confirmation. I sing not pleasures of my love - I sing the wound of my nation. Not nasty person's rusty trunk - Granite, with people's knees rubbed coarse. Hero and king given to all, To all - a singer - righteous - corpse. Not bashful at the coffin boards, Breaking upon Dnieper the ices, Russia - on Easter we do swim To you with pouring thousand-voices. Thus, heart, there will be cry and praise! Let your cry - which thousand? The mortal love is jealous so. The other's at the chorus glad. To Akhmatova 1 O muse of weeping, the most beautiful muse! O you the child of white night, ever mad and fierce! A black snowstorm over Russia you send And your cries our hearts like flying arrows pierce. And we tumble down and a deaf "Oh" - A hundred thousand people your name are calling: Anna Akhmatova! The name is a giant sigh, And she who is nameless into the abyss is falling. We're blessed that along with you we walk the same Earth, that the sky is the same overhead; And he, who is wounded with your mortal fate, As an immortal goes onto his deathbed. In my singing city the cupolas are aflame, And wandering blind man praises the Spassky light.. And I give to you my city that's full of bells, Akhmatova, and my heart I give to you beside. 2 What are people's wiles to me? Holding My head I stand, On late dawn I sing Holding my head. Ah, I have been raised on the crest Of a wave wrathful and mad! I sing you, that you are alone among us, Like moon overhead! That, having flown like a raven on the heart, Pierced the clouds so. Hook-nosed one, whose wrath is deadly and Whose mercy's deadly also. That over my Kremlin made of fine gold Has spread out her night, That tied my neck as if with a belt With singing delight. Ah, I am happy! Never the dawn Had been more clear, Ah, I am happy, that for your sake I'm leaving as a beggar - That you, whose voice, narr