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Down the Oka pulls a barge,
Very slow.
Several words without willing
You are repeating still.
Somewhere in the field is ringing
Weakly the bell.
Ring in the field? On the meadow?
Are they going to the prayer?
Eyes into somebody's fortune
For a moment stare.
Distance is blue between pine trees,
On threshing-floor voices ring..
And smiles the autumn
To our spring.
Life has flung open, but still..
Ah, days of gold!
Lord, how are they distant!
How are they distant, God!
To melt all, that the people forget all,
Like a candle or molten snow?
Be a handful of dust in the future
Under cross of a grave? I say no!
Every moment, from anguish concussing,
I return to the same once again:
Die forever! Did for this the fortune
Give me all things to understand?
Evening in the child's room, where with muppets
I'll be sitting, cobweb on the meadow,
The accursed soul by the vision..
To live for everyone, all to know!
For this (there is strength in the expressed one)
I give to court what's dear to me,
That these my restless young years
Youth would keep eternally.
You walk, looking just like me,
Lowering your eyes.
I lowered them - also!
Stop, the passerby!
Read - having gathered a bouquet
Of hens' blindness and poppies -
That they called me Marina
And how old I was.
Don't think I'll appear with menace,
That a grave here is hidden..
I loved to laugh too much
When it was forbidden.
And blood to the skin was rushing,
And my curls did twist..
I once was too, passerby!
Passerby, cease and desist!
Tear off for yourself a wild stem
And after him a berry:
There are no strawberries sweeter
Or bigger than at cemetery.
But only don't grimly stand there,
On the chest lowering your head.
Lightly do think about me
And lightly about me forget.
How the ray alights you!
You're all in a golden dust..
And at my voice from below
Do not you be nonplussed.
These my poems, written so early
That I did not know then I was a poet,
Which having tore, like droplets from a fountain,
Like sparks from a rocket,
Into a sanctuary, where there is sleep and incense
Like little devils having burst,
These my poems about youth and about death,
This unread verse!
Scattered through shops in piles of dust
Where nobody picked them up or does,
These my poems, like precious wine,
Will have their time.
Passing me by, as you walk
To charms doubtful and not mine -
If you but knew how much fire,
How much life is wasted in vain,
On the rustling, occasional shade
What a heroic flame -
And how enflamed my heart
This gunpowder wasted in vain!
O the trains flying into the night,
Carrying sleep on the station away..
If you recognized - if you but knew -
Then and there, I know, anyway.
Why are my words so sharp
In the smoke of my cigarette -
How much dark and menacing angst
Is there in my light-haired head.
My voice is dumb and all the words,
In vain. So now, go!
I won't be in the right before
Anyone, I know.
Beautiful coward, in this battle
It's not for me to fall!
But, dear youth, I do not fight
For power in this world.
And this the noble-minded verse
Never yourself denies.
You can - because of someone else -
Not see my very eyes,
Not to grow blind upon my flame,
Nor feel the strength in me..
What demon in me you let loose
Into eternity!
But know that there will be a court,
Like arrow taking aim,
When two angelic fiery wings
Over the head will gleam.
1
We're sharp and we are ready,
We're faster.
In each word, in each glance, in each gesture -
Two sisters.
Unique and refined our taste is
And our words,
We from the old Damascus
Are two swords.
Out, threshing-floor and bread's burden
And the ox!
We - are stretched out in heaven
Two arrows!
On the world's market without sin
We're alone.
We - from William Shakespeare
Are two poems.
2
We - are the dressing of poplars
In the spring,
We - are the last hope
Of the kings.
We're on the bottom of ancient cup.
Come see now:
In it is your dawn, and ours
Two dawns too.
And touching lips to the cup
Drink to bottom.
You will see our names
On the bottom.
Light glance is brave and shining
Evil too.
Who on earth ever met it
Among you?
Guarding the cradle, the mausoleum
And other things,
We are the final visage
Of the kings.
1
Such voices can be,
That you're silent, don't repeat them,
So that wonders you foresee.
There are also giant eyes
The color of the sea
Now he stands in front of you:
Look at forehead and at blood
And compare him with you!
The decrepit blood,
Tiredness turned blue.
Of each noble vein
Blueness triumphs.
Gesture of the prince and lion
With a white foam lace
Repeats again.
Your regiment's - dragoon,
Decembrists and Versaillians!
You don't know - he's so young -
Fingers ask for brushes,
Spars and strings.
2
Like seaweed, like branches of willows
Of Malmazonia are your limbs,
Thus you did lie in sprays of sea foam
Transfixing absent-mindedly
Upon the sweet light-golden melons
Of diamond and aquamarine
The eyes forever semi-open
So blue-and-grayish, bluish-green.
The waves are just like rabid lions,
The arrows of the sun did fly.
And from intolerable blueness
Too whitish, you did there lie.
Behind the back, the desert, somewhere
The station Djankoi had to be,
And underneath your arm stretched out
Melon grew golden quietly.
Thus, calm and precious, you lie there,
Don't give a glance and do not see,
But look - and waves will heave with power,
And mountains will be moved to sea.
And new moons will in sky be burning,
And joyful lions will lie down
Under the single downward leaning
Of your head beautiful and young.
I think about the morning of your glory,
About the morning of your days too, when
Like a demon you from sleep had stirred
And were a god for men.
I think of when your eyebrows came together
Over the burning torches of your eyes,
Of how the ancient blood's eternal lava
Rushed through your arteries.
I think of fingers - very long - inside
The wavy hair, about all
Eyes that did thirst for you in alleys
And in the dining-halls.
About the hearts too, which - you were too young then -
You did not have the time to read, too soon,
About the times, when solely in your honor
Arose and down went the moon.
I think about a hall in semi-darkness,
About the velvet, into lace inclined,
About the poems we would have told each other,
You - yours, I - mine.
I also think about the remaining
From your lips and your eyes handful of dust..
About all eyes, that are now in the graveyard
About them and us.
How many people fell in this abyss,
I fathom from afar!
There will be time, and I will vanish too
From earth's exterior.
All will be still, that sang and that did struggle,
That glistened and rejoiced:
The greenness of my eyes, the gold of my hair,
And this my tender voice.
Life will continue with its soft hot bread,
With day's oblivion.
All will continue - under outstretched heavens
As if I'd never been!
Like children changeable in every mien
And angry not for long,
Who loved the times when in the fireplace
Into ash turned the log,
Violin and cavalcade within the forest
And in the village, bell...
Upon this dear earth - I will be no longer
That was alive and real!
To all - who are the friends and strangers
To never having known the measure, me?
I turn to you with this my faith's demand
And love's query.
Both day and night, in word and letter both:
For truth of yes and no,
For that though I am but twenty I am
So often in such sorrow,
For unavoidably my slights and trespasses
Will be forgiven me -
For all of my impetuous tenderness
And look too proud and free -
For quickness of events as they come rushing,
For truth, for play, say I -
Please hear me! But do also please love me
For this that I will die.
Thus to thirst life: And to be tender
And rabid and noisy,
To be intelligent and charming -
Gorgeous to be!
More tender than what are or have been,
Guilt not to know...
This, that in graveyard all are equal,
Angers me so.
To be what nobody holds dear -
Like ice become!
Not knowing what has come before now
Nor what will come,
To forget how the heart broke and
Grew back together,
To forget both the words and voice
And shine of hair.
Bracelet of ancient turquoise
On the stem, on
This my white arm
Narrow and long...
Like painting over a cloud
From afar,
One took the mother-of-pearl pen
In one's arm,
Just like the legs jumped
Over the fence,
To forget, how along the road
Shade advanced.
To forget, like flame of azure, how
Days are subdued...
All my mischief, all my tempest,
And poems too!
Laughter will be chased away by
My miracle.
I, always-pink, will be
The most pale.
And they won't open - thus is needed -
Pity this one!
Not for the sight, not for the fields,
Not for the sun -
These my lowered eyelids. -
Flower not for! -
My earth, forgive for centuries
Forevermore.
Thus both the moon and the snow
Will melt away,
When this young, beautiful century
Will rush on by.
You, whose sleep is without awakening,
Who does still quietly move,
Go to the Three-Pond alley
If you my poems love.
O, how sunny and how starry
It's to start the life's first tome
I pray - while it is not too late yet -
Come and take a look at our home!
Soon that world will be snuffed out,
In a secret of the night look at it,
While the poplar is not cut down
And our home is not sold yet.
This our poplar! Our childhood's evenings
Underneath it nestle and thrash.
This our poplar among acacias
Is the color of silver and ash.
Hurry on, you will find this world
Unforgettably wonderful!
Go to the Three-Pond Alley
To this soul of my soul.
1
You will be innocent, gorgeous,
Refined - and to all alien.
A striving, aspiring mistress,
An enticing Amazon.
Your braids of hair, most likely,
To wear like a helmet you'll choose,
You will be the queen of the ballroom -
Of all the poems of our youth.
And your vicious blade of humor
Will pierce through many, queen,
And you will have at your feet
All of which I can but dream.
All will be obedient to you,
And all before you will be quiet.
Like me, you will indisputably
And better poems write.
But will you press tight and deadly
Those temples of yours - who knows -
Just like your young mother
Is pressing her temples now.
2
Yes, I am 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!
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.
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.
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...
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.
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.
Sleep the rattles and dogs of neighbors -
Not one voice, not one car.
O lover, do not investigate
Why I am parting the bar.
Very slow.
Several words without willing
You are repeating still.
Somewhere in the field is ringing
Weakly the bell.
Ring in the field? On the meadow?
Are they going to the prayer?
Eyes into somebody's fortune
For a moment stare.
Distance is blue between pine trees,
On threshing-floor voices ring..
And smiles the autumn
To our spring.
Life has flung open, but still..
Ah, days of gold!
Lord, how are they distant!
How are they distant, God!
To Literary Prosecutors
To melt all, that the people forget all,
Like a candle or molten snow?
Be a handful of dust in the future
Under cross of a grave? I say no!
Every moment, from anguish concussing,
I return to the same once again:
Die forever! Did for this the fortune
Give me all things to understand?
Evening in the child's room, where with muppets
I'll be sitting, cobweb on the meadow,
The accursed soul by the vision..
To live for everyone, all to know!
For this (there is strength in the expressed one)
I give to court what's dear to me,
That these my restless young years
Youth would keep eternally.
x x x
You walk, looking just like me,
Lowering your eyes.
I lowered them - also!
Stop, the passerby!
Read - having gathered a bouquet
Of hens' blindness and poppies -
That they called me Marina
And how old I was.
Don't think I'll appear with menace,
That a grave here is hidden..
I loved to laugh too much
When it was forbidden.
And blood to the skin was rushing,
And my curls did twist..
I once was too, passerby!
Passerby, cease and desist!
Tear off for yourself a wild stem
And after him a berry:
There are no strawberries sweeter
Or bigger than at cemetery.
But only don't grimly stand there,
On the chest lowering your head.
Lightly do think about me
And lightly about me forget.
How the ray alights you!
You're all in a golden dust..
And at my voice from below
Do not you be nonplussed.
x x x
These my poems, written so early
That I did not know then I was a poet,
Which having tore, like droplets from a fountain,
Like sparks from a rocket,
Into a sanctuary, where there is sleep and incense
Like little devils having burst,
These my poems about youth and about death,
This unread verse!
Scattered through shops in piles of dust
Where nobody picked them up or does,
These my poems, like precious wine,
Will have their time.
x x x
Passing me by, as you walk
To charms doubtful and not mine -
If you but knew how much fire,
How much life is wasted in vain,
On the rustling, occasional shade
What a heroic flame -
And how enflamed my heart
This gunpowder wasted in vain!
O the trains flying into the night,
Carrying sleep on the station away..
If you recognized - if you but knew -
Then and there, I know, anyway.
Why are my words so sharp
In the smoke of my cigarette -
How much dark and menacing angst
Is there in my light-haired head.
x x x
My voice is dumb and all the words,
In vain. So now, go!
I won't be in the right before
Anyone, I know.
Beautiful coward, in this battle
It's not for me to fall!
But, dear youth, I do not fight
For power in this world.
And this the noble-minded verse
Never yourself denies.
You can - because of someone else -
Not see my very eyes,
Not to grow blind upon my flame,
Nor feel the strength in me..
What demon in me you let loose
Into eternity!
But know that there will be a court,
Like arrow taking aim,
When two angelic fiery wings
Over the head will gleam.
To Asya
1
We're sharp and we are ready,
We're faster.
In each word, in each glance, in each gesture -
Two sisters.
Unique and refined our taste is
And our words,
We from the old Damascus
Are two swords.
Out, threshing-floor and bread's burden
And the ox!
We - are stretched out in heaven
Two arrows!
On the world's market without sin
We're alone.
We - from William Shakespeare
Are two poems.
2
We - are the dressing of poplars
In the spring,
We - are the last hope
Of the kings.
We're on the bottom of ancient cup.
Come see now:
In it is your dawn, and ours
Two dawns too.
And touching lips to the cup
Drink to bottom.
You will see our names
On the bottom.
Light glance is brave and shining
Evil too.
Who on earth ever met it
Among you?
Guarding the cradle, the mausoleum
And other things,
We are the final visage
Of the kings.
To Sergei Efron-Durnovo
1
Such voices can be,
That you're silent, don't repeat them,
So that wonders you foresee.
There are also giant eyes
The color of the sea
Now he stands in front of you:
Look at forehead and at blood
And compare him with you!
The decrepit blood,
Tiredness turned blue.
Of each noble vein
Blueness triumphs.
Gesture of the prince and lion
With a white foam lace
Repeats again.
Your regiment's - dragoon,
Decembrists and Versaillians!
You don't know - he's so young -
Fingers ask for brushes,
Spars and strings.
2
Like seaweed, like branches of willows
Of Malmazonia are your limbs,
Thus you did lie in sprays of sea foam
Transfixing absent-mindedly
Upon the sweet light-golden melons
Of diamond and aquamarine
The eyes forever semi-open
So blue-and-grayish, bluish-green.
The waves are just like rabid lions,
The arrows of the sun did fly.
And from intolerable blueness
Too whitish, you did there lie.
Behind the back, the desert, somewhere
The station Djankoi had to be,
And underneath your arm stretched out
Melon grew golden quietly.
Thus, calm and precious, you lie there,
Don't give a glance and do not see,
But look - and waves will heave with power,
And mountains will be moved to sea.
And new moons will in sky be burning,
And joyful lions will lie down
Under the single downward leaning
Of your head beautiful and young.
To Byron
I think about the morning of your glory,
About the morning of your days too, when
Like a demon you from sleep had stirred
And were a god for men.
I think of when your eyebrows came together
Over the burning torches of your eyes,
Of how the ancient blood's eternal lava
Rushed through your arteries.
I think of fingers - very long - inside
The wavy hair, about all
Eyes that did thirst for you in alleys
And in the dining-halls.
About the hearts too, which - you were too young then -
You did not have the time to read, too soon,
About the times, when solely in your honor
Arose and down went the moon.
I think about a hall in semi-darkness,
About the velvet, into lace inclined,
About the poems we would have told each other,
You - yours, I - mine.
I also think about the remaining
From your lips and your eyes handful of dust..
About all eyes, that are now in the graveyard
About them and us.
x x x
How many people fell in this abyss,
I fathom from afar!
There will be time, and I will vanish too
From earth's exterior.
All will be still, that sang and that did struggle,
That glistened and rejoiced:
The greenness of my eyes, the gold of my hair,
And this my tender voice.
Life will continue with its soft hot bread,
With day's oblivion.
All will continue - under outstretched heavens
As if I'd never been!
Like children changeable in every mien
And angry not for long,
Who loved the times when in the fireplace
Into ash turned the log,
Violin and cavalcade within the forest
And in the village, bell...
Upon this dear earth - I will be no longer
That was alive and real!
To all - who are the friends and strangers
To never having known the measure, me?
I turn to you with this my faith's demand
And love's query.
Both day and night, in word and letter both:
For truth of yes and no,
For that though I am but twenty I am
So often in such sorrow,
For unavoidably my slights and trespasses
Will be forgiven me -
For all of my impetuous tenderness
And look too proud and free -
For quickness of events as they come rushing,
For truth, for play, say I -
Please hear me! But do also please love me
For this that I will die.
x x x
Thus to thirst life: And to be tender
And rabid and noisy,
To be intelligent and charming -
Gorgeous to be!
More tender than what are or have been,
Guilt not to know...
This, that in graveyard all are equal,
Angers me so.
To be what nobody holds dear -
Like ice become!
Not knowing what has come before now
Nor what will come,
To forget how the heart broke and
Grew back together,
To forget both the words and voice
And shine of hair.
Bracelet of ancient turquoise
On the stem, on
This my white arm
Narrow and long...
Like painting over a cloud
From afar,
One took the mother-of-pearl pen
In one's arm,
Just like the legs jumped
Over the fence,
To forget, how along the road
Shade advanced.
To forget, like flame of azure, how
Days are subdued...
All my mischief, all my tempest,
And poems too!
Laughter will be chased away by
My miracle.
I, always-pink, will be
The most pale.
And they won't open - thus is needed -
Pity this one!
Not for the sight, not for the fields,
Not for the sun -
These my lowered eyelids. -
Flower not for! -
My earth, forgive for centuries
Forevermore.
Thus both the moon and the snow
Will melt away,
When this young, beautiful century
Will rush on by.
x x x
You, whose sleep is without awakening,
Who does still quietly move,
Go to the Three-Pond alley
If you my poems love.
O, how sunny and how starry
It's to start the life's first tome
I pray - while it is not too late yet -
Come and take a look at our home!
Soon that world will be snuffed out,
In a secret of the night look at it,
While the poplar is not cut down
And our home is not sold yet.
This our poplar! Our childhood's evenings
Underneath it nestle and thrash.
This our poplar among acacias
Is the color of silver and ash.
Hurry on, you will find this world
Unforgettably wonderful!
Go to the Three-Pond Alley
To this soul of my soul.
To Alla
1
You will be innocent, gorgeous,
Refined - and to all alien.
A striving, aspiring mistress,
An enticing Amazon.
Your braids of hair, most likely,
To wear like a helmet you'll choose,
You will be the queen of the ballroom -
Of all the poems of our youth.
And your vicious blade of humor
Will pierce through many, queen,
And you will have at your feet
All of which I can but dream.
All will be obedient to you,
And all before you will be quiet.
Like me, you will indisputably
And better poems write.
But will you press tight and deadly
Those temples of yours - who knows -
Just like your young mother
Is pressing her temples now.
2
Yes, I am 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.