I will bring without a doubt
      A heart to you tonight.

      And for now - from distant lands -
      Sleep now, sleep in peace! -
      You have come to me. Complete,
      Don Juan, is your list.


      3
      Aren't you tired, after so many roses,
      Cities and toasts
      To love me? You're almost a skeleton,
      I'm almost a ghost.

      And why should I know, that you had to call
      On a higher power?
      And why should I know, that there was smell of Nile
      In my hair?

      No, I better tell you a tale:
      January it was.
      A monk with a mask carried a flashlight.
      Someone threw a rose.

      Someone's drunken voice at cathedral walls
      Prayed and swore.
      Don Juan of Castille met Carmen
      At this hour.


      4
      Exactly - midnight.
      Moon - like a hawk.
      "Why - do you peer?"
      "Thus - I peer!"
      "Do you like me?" "No."
      "Do you recognize me?" "Maybe."
      "I am Don Juan."
      "And I am Carmen."


      5
      And this Don Juan had Donna Anna,
      And this Don Juan possessed a sword.
      Of the beautiful, unhappy Don Juan
      This from people is the only word.

      But I was a clever one today:
      I at midnight stepped on roadside,
      Someone went along with me in stride
      Calling names.

      And in fog the staff paled, a strange one..
      There was no Donna Anna for Don Juan!


      6
      And the silk sash is falling
      To his feet - a snake heavenly..
      And "someday, when she's underground,
      You will calm down" they tell me.

      I see my profile, old
      And arrogant in brocade white.
      And somewhere - guitars - guitars -
      And youths in a cloak like the night.

      And somebody under mask hiding:
      "Recognize!" - "I don't know" - "Recognize!"
      And the silk sash is falling
      On a square round like paradise.


      7
      And fanning in eyes of the coming
      Sadness and sin,
      You pass the city - brutally-black,
      Heavenly-thin.

      Covered with torment, like with fog,
      Is your eye.
      In loop - a rose, in all the pockets -
      Words of love. Aye!

      I hear your call over the restaurant
      Violin.
      I send a smile to you from the distance,
      Robber king!

      And then I recognize that same look,
      Spreading my wings,
      With which in Castille at me stared
      Your older sibling.



x x x



      Above the church there are blue clouds,
      A crows' cry...
      And pass - the color of ash and sand -
      Revolutionary troops... oh my
      Blue-blooded, my kingly angst!

      They don't have a face, don't have a name -
      Nobody sings!
      You got lost, the Kremlin ringing
      In this banner forest full of wind.
      Lie, Moscow, onto eternal sleep, and pray!



To Tsar, on Easter



      Open, Open,
      The gates of the tsar!
      Darkness dimmed and poured out far.
      With clean heat
      Burns the altar -
      Resurrect, Christ,
      Yesterday's tsar!

      Without glory fell
      Two-headed eagle.
      Tsar - you were wrong.

      He'll remember inheritance
      Many more times -
      Byzantine sacrilege
      Of your clear eyes.

      Your judges -
      Lightning and wave!
      Tsar! God sought
      You, not men.

      But now there's Easter
      In all the land,
      Sleep in your village
      With a calm mind,
      Don't dream of
      The banners red.

      Tsar! Descendants
      And ancestors - sleep.
      There is a knapsack since
      A throne you won't keep.



Stepan Razin




      1
      Winds have gone to sleep - with golden dawn,
      Night comes - with a mountain of stone,
      And with his princess from hot land
      Rests the rabid chieftain.

      Having gathered his youthful shoulders in a sack
      He listened, his forehead leaning back,
      How over his hot tent it thunders -
      Nightingale's thunder.


      2
      Over Volga - night,
      Over Volga - sleep...
      Ornate rugs they have laid down,
      And on them the chieftain has laid
      With a Persian princess - black brows.

      One can't see the stars, one can't hear the waves,
      Oars and darkness extreme, this is all!
      And the shuttle bears away into the chieftain's
      Night sinful Persian soul.

      And such a speech
      Did the night hear:
      Don't you want, at last,
      To lie nearer?
      Out of all our women
      You're the pearl!
      Am I this scary
      I'm your all-time slave,
      Persian girl!
      My prisoner!


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      And she knitted the brows,
      The long brows.
      And she eyes cast down
      Eyes Persian.
      And from her lips
      Only one sigh rings:
      Djal-Eddin.


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      And over Volga - a ruddy dawn,
      And over Volga - heaven.
      And the drunk crowd roars:
      Get up, chieftain!

      With a Muslim dog you did lie!
      See the tears in the beauty's eyes!

      And she - like death,
      Bit her mouth in blood.
      Thus goes a chieftain's brow so hard.

      This our bed, you dog, you did not want,
      So make do with our baptismal font!

      It's dark in the day,
      In the sky it is clear.
      Red is the shoe
      In the ship's rear.

      And like menacing oak stands Stepan,
      And to very lips pales Stepan.
      Ah, so tiring - it shakes, rocks!
      Hold up, heathens - in the eyes it's dark!

      Here to you is the Persian girl,
      The prisoner girl.


      3

      (DREAM OF RAZIN)
      And Razin dreams a dream:
      Like a cry of a heron of the swamp.
      And Razin dreams a ringing:
      Like silver droplets drop.

      And Razin dreams of the bottom:
      With flowers, like a kerchief, covered.
      And he dreams of one face -
      Forgotten, with black brows.

      He sits, like God's mother,
      Stringing pearls on a thread.
      And he wants to tell her,
      But only moves lips instead...

      The breath has been stifled - ah
      In the chest there is a glass chip.
      And the glass slope walks past them
      Like a guard who wants to sleep.


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      Down the Volga-river with
      The steering dawn drove he.
      Over just a single shoe
      Why did you leave me?

      Who will want a beauty
      In just one shoe?
      For the other shoe, friend,
      I will come to you!

      And rings, rings the bracelet: Drowned
      The happiness of Stepan!



x x x



      From a strict and elegant temple
      On the squealing of squares you alight.
      Freedom! The beautiful lady
      Of marquises and Russian knights.

      A dreadful rehearsal is on now -
      Still ahead is the mass!
      O freedom! The partying woman
      On the mad soldier's chest!



x x x



      Bitterness! On your lips, passion -
      Is eternal aftertaste!
      Bitterness! It is temptation
      For all times - to die at last.

      I from bitterness - am kissing
      Everyone who's young and sweet.
      You from bitterness - another
      By the hand at night do lead.

      With bread I eat, with water swallow
      Bitter woe, bitter sorrow.
      There is one such kind of grass,
      Mother Russia, on your meadows.



Carmen




      1
      Divine, childish-plain
      The dress is, and short to the plait.
      How the sides of a pyramid
      Rush sides from the belt.

      What big rings there are
      On the fingers little and dark!
      What big buckles there are
      On the tiny shoes!

      And people eat and argue,
      And people are playing cards.
      You do not know, players,
      What you have bet on the card!

      And she - she needs nothing!
      And she - she needs nothing!
      Here's my chest. Tear my heart out -
      Carmen - and drink my blood!


      2
      She stands, throwing back the throat,
      And bit the mouth in blood.
      And set the hand against bosom -
      The left one - where there is love.

      "On your knees!" - "What to you
      Are my knees that I should bend,
      Abbot?" With these words
      Her last night Carmen did end.



Gypsy Wedding



      Dirt flies
      From under the hooves.
      Shawl like a shield
      Over the face.
      Newlyweds, have fun
      Without the young!
      Eh, carry them out,
      Disheveled stallion!

      We didn't have freedom
      Under mother and dad,
      The whole field for us
      Is marital bed!
      Full without bread and without wine drunk -
      Thus the gypsy wedding does run!

      Full is the glass.
      Empty is the glass.
      Guitar sound, dirt and moon.
      To right and to left swings the den.
      Gypsy - to knight!
      To gypsy - knight!
      Hey mister, careful - it burns!
      Thus drinks gypsy wedding!

      There, on the shawls'
      And fur-coats' heap
      There's ringing and rustling
      Of steel and lips.
      Ringing of spurs,
      Necklaces - in return.
      Silk has whistled
      Under someone's hand.
      Someone has howled like a wolf,
      Someone like a bull is snoring.
      Thus sleeps the gypsy wedding.



x x x



      The first day I recall, ferocity of childhood,
      Exhaustion and the darkness of the gulp divine,
      The carelessness of arms, the heartlessness of heart,
      That fell onto the chest, like hawk, like stone.

      And now - this time - trembling from heat and pity,
      One: to howl like wolf, one: to the feet to fall,
      To cast down - understand - penalty for sensuality
      Is cruel love and passion terrible.



x x x



      Night. North-East. The soldiers cry. Waves roar.
      They bombed a wine warehouse. Along the walls,
      Through ditches, runs a precious torrent
      And in it dances bloody moon.

      The trunks of the poplars are mad.
      Mad also in the night, birds sing.
      Empty, yesterday's monument to the tsar,
      And over the tsar's monument - the night.

      The harbor drinks, the barracks drink. The world is ours!
      Ours is the wine in cellars of the knights!
      The whole city, stomping just like bulls,
      Falling to murky puddle on the road - drinks.

      In cloud of wine - there is the moon. Who's here?
      You beauty, be a comrade, drink!
      And in the city there's a happy rumour,
      That somewhere two have drowned in the wine.



x x x



      Strong and wealthy have a hard time,
      It is hard to all the lords.
      I won't lower the light eyes
      A red soldier before.

      City's moaning and carousing,
      Moon in cloud made of wine.
      Not a living soul will touch me:
      Poor and arrogant am I.



Kornilov



      A Cossack, a Cossack's son...
      Thus the speech has begun.
      Homeland. Darkness. Foe.
      Everyone's heads fall down.

      Sound alarm, priests.
      "There's no food." "Good."
      Not a day should be lost!
      A soldier must
      Clean the horse...



To Moscow






      1
      You did not bend the shoulders, when the red-haired
      Impostor seized you and for you did reach.
      Where is your pride, you baroness? Your blush,
      You beauty? Brilliant girl, your speech?

      Like Tsar Peter, the law of sons despising,
      Did lust with avarice after your head -
      You answered to the Tsar of Russia truly
      As baroness Morozova on the sled.

      The fiery drink was not at all forgotten
      By lips of Bonapart that were so cold.
      The sides of Kremlin all things will endure.
      In your cathedral not the first time stands a stall.


      2
      The thief Grishka did not make you Polish,
      The Tsar Peter did not make you German.
      "What're you doing, little dove?" "I'm crying."
      "Where, Moscow, is your pride?" "It's gone."

      "Where are all your doves?" "There is no feed."
      "Who bore him away?" "The raven black."
      "Where are all your holy crosses?" "Torn down."
      "Where are your sons, Moscow?" "Killed."


      3
      Liquid ringing, meager ringing.
      To all sides I'm curtsying.

      Cry of infant, cow's roar.
      The tsar's daring word.

      Lashes' whistling, snow full of blood.
      The dark word of Love.

      The pigeons' quiet noise.
      The Shooter's black eyes.



x x x



      In vain, Cavalier de Grie,
      Do you dream of the full of beauty,
      Autocratic - her self not ruling -
      Your voluptuous Manon.

      From your rooms we are succeeding
      In a flock tired and willing.
      They recall us not past the evening.
      Be obedient - such is the law.

      We are coming in from night stormy,
      We really need nothing from you,
      Except supper - and pearls we need from you
      And maybe one more thing - your soul!

      Honor and duty, Cavalier - convention it is.
      Let God give you a regiment of mistresses!
      Showing a readiness in all this.
      Passionately loving you
      - M.



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:
      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.
      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!
      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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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"...



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.



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!



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.



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.



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!



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
      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!
      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..
      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!
      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,
      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,
      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 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.



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!



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!



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.



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!



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,
      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,
      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!



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!



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!



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.



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!



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!