As if we had corrected this step
      Sometime with a butt and with steel...
      Not in vain, not in vain the Cherkessian waist
      And the tight buckle of belt.

      My dear father! Open the gates of heaven
      With a storm - when the dawn I sense!
      As if deliberately for the hike bag
      The width of the shoulders.

      All can - some insane cripple over the cradle
      Has sung me a song... From this day
      Something persisted, remained and is here:
      I take the word - and take aim!

      And thus does my heart over Russian Republic
      Screech - you can feed, or no way! -
      As if I myself had been officer also
      In deadly October days.



Wolf



      Then a friendship, now a duty.
      Brother wolf, God be with you!
      Our friendship is now dying:
      I'm not gift but debt for you.

      Disturb a verst with a verst,
      Send a verst into a verst!
      I have petted on a fur -
      And I have been missing angst!

      I'm not making you a villain -
      It's not your guilt, it is my sin:
      With my insatiability
      I am feeding everyone!

      To go after you with silicon
      Fire in forest - thus judged Lord -
      Girls are jealous of just one thing:
      That the paws would not grow cold.

      To hold - I won't move a finger:
      Finger - not pole, great is wood.
      Take away with you your gray spots,
      Brother fang, be with you God!

      Fare thee well, I won't remember
      In my dreams, you, O gray hide!
      To believe in the wolf's grayness
      One more idiot you will find.



To a Stranger



      Your banners - not mine!
      Our heads apart.
      Not to betray in the Snake's vice
      My Pigeon - Spirit.

      Not to start in a red round dance
      Around a May tree.
      Higher than all earthly gates
      Are heaven's gates to me.

      Your victories - and not mine!
      Others in hallucination!
      We aren't on two ends of the Earth -
      On two constellations!

      What am I doing - we're jealous
      Of two different stars -
      I, throwing over the bridge
      With a brave arm?!

      Treasure more precious than the icons
      I have with me.
      There is another law, covering
      The laws - you hear?

      Before him all wedges incline,
      Dim precious stones.
      The law of a stretched-out arm,
      Flung open soul.

      And we'll be judged with the same
      Measure, know.
      And heaven in which I believe
      Will take us both.



x x x



      O love! O love! In the convulsions, in the coffin,
      I'll be on guard - entice - worry - and tear.
      Not in the snow mound of the coffin, nor a snow mound
      Of cloud, I will part with you, O my dear.

      And not for this are given to me gorgeous
      Two wings that weight upon my heart would lie.
      Pathetic village of the eyeless, voiceless,
      And swaddled I will never multiply.

      No, I wheedle the arms! Your sturdy body
      From out your cloth I'll beat out with one blow,
      Death! For a thousand kilometers all around
      The wood is burned and melted is the snow.

      And if still - shoulders, wings, knees pressing -
      I let you to the churchyard drive me -
      It is so that, laughing over the ashes,
      I'll rise like poem - or like rose bloom free!


      x x x
      Either at dawn or at dusk, I will die, but on which
      One of the two - can't be told from the orders, I know.
      Ah, could it be that my torch could go out twice again!
      At the same time at dusk and at dawn it would go!

      Heaven's daughter! With a full apron of roses! Not a sprout
      Violating! Went through earth in a dancing gait!
      I'll die at dusk or at dawn, this I know! God won't send
      After my soul like a swan the hawk-like night!

      Driving away the unkissed cross with a tender hand,
      In the kind sky I will seek the last greeting, I know it.
      Slit of the dawn - and the slit of a smile in response...
      Even in hiccup of death I will still be a poet!


      x x x
      Happy New Year, encampment Swan!
      Ruins so glorious!
      Happy New Year - in other places -
      Knapsack-bearing warriors!

      Dances, mouth foaming, not caught up,
      The pursuit in red!
      Happy New Year - beaten in the races
      Homeland with a hand!

      The whole Earth sings with a toast song
      To the earth do lean!
      Thus, Igor - with Yaroslav is crying
      Russia over the sea.

      With a tired moan it quenches sorrow:
      My brother! My knight! My son!
      Happy New Year, you across the blue sea
      Russia oh-so-young.



Student




      To say - to be thoughtful of what?
      In rain - under one coat,
      At night - under one coat, later
      To grave - under one coat.



      1
      To be your light-haired little fellow -
      Oh, through all years! -
      To drape a student behind your dusty purple
      In cloak severe.

      To catch through people's density your sigh
      That life does give
      With soul that lives with your breath, like a cloak
      With blowing wind.

      More victorious than King David, with shoulder
      The crowd to move.
      To serve from all slights, all earthly slights
      As cloak to you.

      To be he who between the sleeping students
      In sleep won't dream.
      A shield, and not a cloak, at the first stone
      That crowd brought in.

      (This verse's not stopped willfully! The knife is
      Sharp to no end!)
      And - with inspired smile - to be the first your
      Fire to ascend.


      2
      There is an hour - just like discarded clothes:
      When in ourselves the pride we quench in full.
      The hour of study, it in every life is
      Triumphant-unavoidable.

      The high hour, when, before the feet of one with finger
      Appointed, our weapons laying down,
      We change the purple of the warrior
      On sand into the camel's down.

      Like voice that rises us to our exertion
      From self-will of the days, behold this hour!
      Behold this hour when we are leaning down
      From heaviness just like a ripe corn ear.

      And ear grew up, and beat the happy hour,
      And for the millstone did thirst the grain.
      The law! The law! Still in the womb of earth
      The burden I desired does remain.

      The hour of study! But beheld and known
      Is different light - the dawn still burns, still burns.
      Blessed to him are you, following behind him
      The supreme hour of loneliness!


      3
      Evening sun is kinder than
      Sun at noon.
      Screams fanatically, not warms
      Sun at noon.

      Meeker, more aloof is the sun
      At night. Wise,
      It does not want to beat
      In our eyes.

      Stirring with its simplicity
      Made for kings,
      Dearer is evening sun
      To one who sings.


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      Crucified by darkness
      Each evening,
      Evening sun does not bow
      To the throng.

      Thebe, remember! He, cast down
      From the throne.
      He, cast down - looks above
      Not below.

      O, don't wait upon the neighboring
      Bell tower!
      I want to be your final
      Bell tower.


      4
      The wooden load
      Below waves fell.
      Two eternal ones quietly
      Ascended the hill.

      Tightly - shoulder to shoulder -
      They stand, don't talk.
      Two breaths are walking
      Under one cloak.

      The leader of yesterday's and
      Today's sleeping wars
      Silently stand by
      The double black tower.

      They stand wiser than serpents,
      Milder than doves.
      Father, take me back into
      Your life above!

      Smoke of the wars of the Lord
      Across the sky.
      Struggles the cloak, raised
      With double sigh.

      Prays and trembles, jealousy
      Eats out the sight...
      Father, take me into sunset,
      Into your night!

      Breathe deserts, they celebrate
      The night's entry...
      Son falls like a ripe fruit
      Heavily.

      Quiet is the human flock
      Within its fold.
      Calm are the two alit
      On hill of gold.


      5
      We were like ancient ones, the hour
      Was wonderful and full.
      We side by side ascended up
      The hill, I do recall.

      The speech of the cascading streams
      Has wound fancily
      With cloak, falling on the shoulders
      In a wave gracefully.

      The final gold of the heights
      Is higher, higher yet.
      The dreaming voice: The sunrise that
      Comes out to meet sunset.


      6
      All magnificence of
      Pipes - is but murmur of
      Grass - before you.

      All magnificence of
      Storms - is but chatter of
      Birds - before you.

      All magnificence of
      Wings - is but patter of
      Eyelids - before you.


      7
      On the hills - round and tan,
      Under the ray - dusty and strong,
      With a boot - meek and mild -
      After the cloak - reddened and torn.

      On the sands - greedy and rusty,
      Under ray - burning and drinking,
      With a boot - meek and mild -
      After the cloak - with trace and trace.

      On the waves - angry and blown-up,
      Under the ray - wrathful and ancient,
      With a boot - meek and mild -
      After the cloak - lying and lying...



Marina




      1
      His dove to be, like an eagle!
      More than a mother to be, Marina!
      A messenger - a guard - a courier -

      A flag-bearer - flatterer of the court!
      With a seraph and dog to guard
      A sleep restless and full of fear.

      Taking a pack of sallow cards for a game,
      Legs in stirrup! - through water and flame!
      Where on horse - where to swim - where to crawl!

      By the swamp - by the willows - by the reeds -
      And where horse does not take - fly, all winds
      Having captured in your shawl!

      In a black noiseless whirlwind flying,
      Not a lady - a handy, I am!
      Not to be sole - the second!

      A twin - a double - slender
      Godbrother in flame of bonfire,
      To be his crooked friend.

      Clamor of Kremlin's uninvited guests.
      If Basmanov is your name, set
      Aside - yield before love!

      Threw open a chest kerchief, I.
      Arms wide open! That on Judgment Day
      Will not stand in Basmanov's blood.


      2
      Three usurpers' wife,
      Daughter of arrogant Mnishka,
      You did not birth a son
      To your husband so proud.

      In bare-headed sleep
      In resounding window flight
      You did not wave a trace
      To your husband so proud.

      On the square full of fate
      From spits and boxes on ear
      You did not cover with body
      Your own husband so proud.

      In a foolish mask lay,
      With bloody pipe in the mouth.
      You did not wipe the sweat
      Of your husband so proud.

      Oh the treacherous blood!
      Be accursed, be accursed.
      You that to false Dimitry was false Marina!


      3
      Heart, betrayal!
      But never parting!
      And the tan arm of the thief
      To the white lips.

      Short concussion of bones on the plates.
      Gregory! Dimitry!
      Tsar-killers! Blood and fluff!
      And - with the second jump -
      On the spears!


      4
      "Your chest is redolent,
      Just like a rosemary trunk...
      A most honorable lady..."
      "My young honored one..."

      "I'm dark, unrecognized, quiet...
      With what shall I repay...
      From underneath the eyelids
      Something, "With life!" did say.

      In every chased-down stranger
      We are serving Jesus Sir.
      Mangles in mangled confusion
      Handful of genuine pearls.

      Pearls have been sprinkled - like tears!
      Aiming with every eyelash,
      He sees, while stranger picks up
      Them, as if fidgeting in ash.



From Cycle "Parting"




      2
      So long ago thrown down
      I raise the arms.
      In empty black window
      Empty arms
      I throw in the midnight beating
      Of hours - to go home
      I want! Thus: head down
      From the tower! Home!
      In whisper and rustle:
      Not on the stone of a square...
      My wing was shot
      By some young warrior.


      2
      More sharply, more sharptly
      Your arms do twist!
      Between us are heavenly
      Rivers - not versts,
      Between us are parting's lands azure,
      Where forever inseparable
      Are I and you.

      In silver harness
      The highway runs.
      I don't twist the arms!
      Without sound
      I only pull them
      Like mountain-ash waves
      Into the parting,
      Into the stork flock's trace.

      Without looking back
      The stork flock aspires,
      Conceit I won't doff!
      In death - well-attired
      I'll be - your golden-feathered speed is
      The final bulwark
      In loss of space!


      3
      With a dark olive
      Hide head of bed,
      Jealous of earthly
      Love are the gods.

      Every rustle
      And whisper they hear.
      Know, not just to you
      The youth is dear.

      Someone is mad at
      Luxury of May.
      Be careful of
      The sharp-eyed sky.


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      That rocks and cliffs
      Lure him, you claim,
      That copper-voiced
      Call of fame

      Lures him - to depth,
      Chest on the spear?
      The rising wave
      Drowns him - you conjure?

      Sting of the fortune
      Pierced - you see?
      Deeper than disgrace
      Is tsar's mercy.

      That you wander late in the
      Low lands you shed tears.
      Invisible, not the
      Earth-born you should fear.

      On sight of the comb
      To them is each hair.
      Gods have a thousand
      Eyes to spare.

      Fear not the quicksand -
      Fear sky's blue!
      Insatiable
      Is heart of Zeus.


      4
      Quietly
      With an arm careful and thin
      I'll untangle the tangles:
      Arms - and with neighing
      Obedient, will rustle the amazon
      On empty and resounding steps of parting.

      Stomps his feet and neighs
      In the lit flight the winged one. In the eyes -
      Flaming of dawn.
      Little arms, little arms!
      You call in vain:
      The staircase of Lethe pours them between.


      5
      Big you won't see,
      You won't see me gray.
      You won't press the tears
      From motionless eyes.

      For all of your torment.
      Crying is the battle:
      Put down your arm!
      Leave the mantle!

      In apathy's
      Stone-eyed cameo
      Like mother I won't
      Tarry in the door:
      (With heaviness of
      Blood, knees, eye -
      In the final earthly
      Time!)

      Not with a crawling wounded beast
      No, with a lump of rock
      To leave the door -
      From life. What for
      Do the tears pour,
      When the stone is lifted
      From shoulders of yours?

      Not a stone! Already
      With an eagle's width
      Is the cloak! And already by river of azure
      Into the city of light, where
      The mother
      To take her kid
      Would not dare.


      [6]
      With silver growth
      He tore up and away.
      That Zeus would not
      See him -
      Pray!

      At the first rustle
      Be fearful and stand.
      They're jealous of
      Beauty of man.

      Their call is scarier
      Than jaw of a beast.
      Jealous of beauty
      Is the gods' nest.

      With flowers, with laurels
      They'll lure up and away.
      That Zeus would not
      Choose him -
      Pray!

      In thunder of eagles'
      Wings is the sky.
      With all chest shatter -
      That you won't hide.

      In eagles' thunder -
      O beak! O blood!
      The tiny lamb
      Is hanging - Love..

      Bare-headed,
      With chest - prostate..
      That Zeus would not
      Raise him -
      Pray!


      [7]
      Your......features
      Imprinted once begun.
      I'll become older, and you
      Will remain still young.

      Your......features,
      Sharpened by burning wind.
      I'll be hunched over, and you
      Will elegantly stand.

      Midday shade of the hair,
      That to my gray spots lean...
      My age, day to day, year to year,
      Will eventually become my son...

      Together we were thirty-six
      A beautiful pair we were...
      And - with a rainbow - a good news:
      .................. - I won't be old!


      [8]
      The final beauty,
      Last heaviness yet:
      The child, hitting palms
      At my feet.

      But this final beauty
      I'll take care of no less
      And I'll throw down this
      Last heaviness.
      . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
      Stinging with inspired
      Women's flattery,
      As if not a teen but
      A lover at the feet -

      About the wanderings -
      Along the amazed Universe
      Under the laurel rain,
      Under the oak rain.

      The beauty final,
      The heaviness final -
      The child, the cloak grasping..
      In torment born! When you'll tell the people
      That there was no equal
      In art of parting!



George




      1
      Eyelashes, eyelashes
      Bowing down.
      With the shame of eyelashes
      Eclipsed - suns in the arrows' crown!
      How clear and how loud!
      And his cloak was red
      And white was his stallion.

      Embarrassed is the rider,
      Proud is the stallion.
      On the dead serpent
      The whitest stallion
      Looks in half-turn.
      In half-window wide
      A spear behind
      Into the red jaw - blowing the nostrils something wild -
      With slanting fiery-eyed.

      The rider's embarrassed,
      The horse comes down.
      The deceased serpent's
      Accursed blood -
      Amber - with light gait
      Avoids - the amber blood flows
      Froze with a raised hoof - from the heights
      Of the swan turn.

      Meek is the horseman,
      Fastidious is the horse.
      The rattling serpent
      With a spear having pierced -
      Since you're modest and languid!
      In the winds - up high - is the heart of yours,
      At the river edge - the spear of yours
      Now sings at the waxen fingers
      At the pink lips
      Under cover of arrows
      Of eyelashes,
      Sings, shouts. -
      O fearful heaviness
      Of deeds done!
      And his cloak is red
      And white is his stallion.

      The lovely horseman
      Awake, stallion!
      The tender horseman
      Has a chest pain.
      Threads the pearls with eyelashes...
      The holy icon - is face of yours,
      With sunset ray - the spear of yours
      From long fingers splashes.
      Does he mow down with a spear
      The ray purple?
      Or the red cloud
      Rises like mantle?
      The white house.
      He will be
      Let in
      With the horse.

      The horseman leans,
      The horse stands on hind legs.
      The palm around the spearman is weaker.
      Now he will bring victory!
      Stirs - moves - and after the spear
      Into the amber puddle - after the horse
      That slipped away.
      The base sweep
      Of arrows...

      Red is the mantle, white is the horse.


      2
      O heaviness of success!
      Slight of victory!
      George, you cry,
      Like a beautiful lady
      You pale at the deed
      Of your two
      Suddenly alien to you
      Hands.

      Horse is squeamish of the serpent,
      You are squeamish of the voice
      Of victory. With heavy oil
      The blood pours.
      The dragon sleeps.
      Full for all your life
      You are.

      The sun is eclipsed
      By the lifted mantle.
      Union, child's bashfulness
      With the dignity of
      Horse.
      From the saddle -
      Into the sky -
      Bush.
      Fastidious sorrow
      Of lips.

      Horse is squeamish of the serpent,
      You are squeamish of the present
      Of the tsar - her engagement fire.
      Of the church frankincense;
      Strict - harsh -
      In the pitiless
      Roar of
      Pipes.

      Trumpet! Trumpet!
      It's not long left to hear.
      The tender victory reed - away.
      The one out-piped away
      Drooped - went quiet.
      And cloudy - above! -
      Post.

      Bow, bow,
      Obedient grass!
      Reddened under the slap of glory -
      Pales. - Home, trumpeters! - He sleeps.
      Until the judgment trumpet -
      Is full.


      3
      Celestial glow
      And blue versts!
      Glory George
      The Victorious!

      Pearly branches
      Of midnight, proclaim
      The clean youth
      The marvelous man:

      His fiery mantle,
      His spear's song
      Glory the blood-boiling
      Stallion.


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      O great masts
      And each proud village!
      Glory the thundering-
      Boiling George!

      In strength and in meekness
      Like sun he'd be.
      Honor of honor,
      Luxury's luxury.

      His towering height,
      His spear's song,
      Glory his lightning-tailed
      Stallion!

      Winds of the lion
      And mass of the church!
      Glory the
      Magnificent George!

      Having killed the serpent,
      Over death having won,
      Entering his lady's home
      On a stallion!

      His great momentum,
      His spear's song,
      Glory his transformed
      Stallion!


      -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
      Flattering willows
      And leaning grass,
      The freedom-loving
      And full of class

      Youth - glory,
      Youth - bemoan...
      Here is he, on the grass
      That is warrior of heaven:

      His pink mouth
      Its two halves there are -
      Couldn't bear victory
      The victory-bearer.


      4
      The feathers from the clouds nodding away...
      How your arrogance to convey,
      George! Creature of powers of heaven!

      How to convey enslaved fervor of a pupil,
      And of a sober blown-up nostril,
      At the full trot the curbed confusion.

      Before the beauty most filled with delight
      How to convey - from the archangel heights
      The saddles and the spears of deed done

      And these arrows of eyelashes - virginity
      Wrathful - the coat of ebony -
      Piercing - we are not of one bone!

      Having completed witnessing God's missive,
      How to convey, George, how you were evasive -
      That you have touched the ground barely -

      A bow - and how the hole at once,
      Piercing-crooked, filled with ice:
      Oh, don't be grateful! By the orders, squarely.


      5
      From the archangel height of the seat
      To do evangelic deeds.
      River burns, dark for miles far hence.
      O distance! Distance! Distance!

      In piercing straightness of the lashes of the eye
      With a firestorm onto the birds to fly.
      The hooves! The wings! Bound up tight!
      O height! Height! Height!

      To open eyes like jaw! Like gear
      Beyond clouds to disappear!
      And not to come to wits - to fall and die:
      O desire! Desire! Desire!


      6
      And I need no girl.
      By the cold of will,
      By the trace of blue
      I will alone go.

      Widowed and an orphan
      You were till I conquered.
      By the willing trace
      Of rushing spring water.

      I'll wash away feats
      From the glory, from pus.
      In your glory I'll
      Give drink to the horse.

      Keep, little dove,
      The sprouts from hail,
      The girl from the serpent,
      The hero from the girl.


      7
      O, by every wind
      Shaken lotus!
      George's shyness,
      George's kindness...

      The childish - severe - deadly importance
      Of gigantic eyes
      Wide and moist.

      Thus deadly torment
      From the rags peers.
      And the excessive
      Weight of a spear

      Not here - with a proud
      Laugh, full of height:
      George most mild,
      George most quiet.

      Most bitter - candle of my vigils - George,
      Most mild - with eyes of a deer - George!

      (The deer that's forgiven
      To the trembling pack).
      To whom did the day
      Of George strike the clock.

      O my lotus!
      My swan!
      Swan! My deer!

      You're all my vigils of night
      And all my dreams beside!

      You my Easter psalm!
      You my final altar!
      You more than my son
      And more than my tsar!

      My azure eye -
      In the height!
      You, having raised again
      Your escaped wife.

      So listen!


      [8]
      With thorn, not with laurel
      As a king crowned,
      In a saddle - with wings!

      Around the shape narrow
      On the black velvet
      Maltese gold is.

      Unbreakable thorn
      Needles - a vow
      To friend and God.

      High bending
      Of a swan, on the side
      A Maltese sword.

      The knight of Maltese
      Order - George,
      Midst sleepers - aware.

      The knight of Maltese
      Order - George,
      At women doesn't stare.



Good Tidings




      1
      Into the treasure chest
      Of the midnight depths
      I let down
      An steady hand.

      Amid seaweed
      There's no sight of him!
      My treasure-chest
      Is not in the sea!

      Into the singing height
      Clouds beyond -
      With double thunder
      I get brave - and now

      A lark has dropped
      From the height for me -
      That you're not beyond cloud,
      That you're beyond sea!


      2
      Alive and well!
      Louder than thunder -
      Like with an axe -
      Joy!

      No, with an axe
      Not enough: with a bull
      Under the butt
      Of happiness!

      Stunned.
      Afraid.
      What in exchange -
      Will they tear away?

      And from the knees
      All the way to the roots
      Of standing hair -
      Terror.

      So it is, alive?
      Shutting one's eyes,
      Breathing, they call -
      Hear?

      Did the ship go away?
      Oh my crane
      In the whole flock
      Youngest!

      Resurrected once died?
      Cutting out sigh
      A stone from the sky,
      Breaking

      Over the head -
      No, till the hilt
      Sword into chest -
      Joy!


      3
      Not hunching under sorrow,
      Under the stone - winged - as
      An eagle - having stayed whole,

      The double sadness
      Of earthly mothers
      And heavenly mistresses

      Having raised on the shoulder -
      Hot Maltese steel
      Was left to me!

      But the wrathful sky
      To the eagles - favorably.
      Is this not a dream: in the waves

      Multitude of horse angels!
      Between them - hosanna! -
      My - whiter than snow...

      Lily chausibles,
      Horse will carry out! -
      Foaming lops on a mantle.
      Wave will carry out! -
      Block standing up...
      God will carry out...
      - Oh!


      4
      Over the sleeping youth - golden spurs.
      Command: Up high!
      Back at the heels the crowd of robbers.
      George, cry!

      With a free left hand you're feeling the cross.
      Command: swim!
      Rule, that to the last one they come under
      The cupola Sofian!

      We're lost! The joints will not bear!
      The end! - Give up!
      With double lightning it opens the wings.
      Command: up!


      5
      In the name of massacre
      Hold tight, my one with wings!
      There was an hour of crossing
      And will be - of getting even.

      In that ton-and-half hour
      Between fact and dream
      Heavily paddled
      The ship's wings.

      Between Charybdis - yes! -
      And Scylla paddled away.
      Oh my wings,
      The ships-cranes!

      Then on the steep
      Shore of Euxene
      Stomped those who escaped,
      Will - those who win.

      In that hour exhausting
      Between mud and muzzle
      The wings did not weaken,
      The hearts did not chill,

      The shoulders were pressing,
      In guard eyes remained.
      O these wings of mine,
      The ships-cranes!

      Not given to offend
      Narrow-faced little birds,
      It was said - a she-eagle's
      Heart of Taurides.

      With many a letter
      Onto cry long-beaked
      The gray-haired Monarchian
      Mom did awake.

      And here's the Sofian
      Cupola - far away...
      O these my wings,
      The ships-cranes!

      Bear! Dark constellation
      Will shiver up high.
      The vengeance will come
      Not from sea, from the sky.

      Look: having been poured
      With lead of heaven,
      The flock of ships
      Is menacing, heavy.

      And there is no end to it,
      There is no land...
      O these my wings,
      The ships-cranes!



Return of Rain



      Horse - lame.
      Sword - rusty.
      Who - now?
      Leader of crowds.

      Step - hour,
      Sigh - century,
      Look - down.
      All - there.

      Foe. - Friend.
      Thorn. - Laurel.
      All - dream...
      He. - Horse.

      Horse - lame.
      Sword - rusty.
      Cloak - old.
      Stature - straight.



x x x



      Into the ether
      Leads the path.
      Stop, now!
      Blind is youth.
      Higher, all higher!
      Into blue rye!
      Stop, now!
      You'll step in the sky.



To Mayakovsky



      Above crosses and pipes,
      Baptized in fire and smoke,
      The heavy-footed archangel -
      Eternal Vladimir, hello!

      He's the rider and he's the horse,
      He's the right and he's the whim.
      He sighed, and spat into the palms:
      Hold tight, the dray fame!

      The singer of plaza wonders -
      Hello, one grimy and proud,
      That he chose the heavy stone
      And was not swayed by the diamond.

      Hello, the thunder of stones!
      He yawned, saluted - and again
      He paddles with shaft - the wing
      Of the archangel dray.



From cycle "Khan's Horde"




      1
      The Khan's pollen
      Having fully tried
      I beat with the wing
      To escape-god.

      Profitable god
      Fast god
      Spurs in the side - god!

      To inform
      With word and sign,
      Lay them to sleep
      With poppy and vine,

      Darkness and home be,
      Word and sign be,
      Stump and ditch be -
      That all winds in the chest beat!

      A black god,
      Raven-god,
      Midnight-beats-god.

      With a comb-slant,
      With a stone-grass
      Over the slanting -
      Yuck - Tatars!

      My horse the ground don't touch,
      My foreheads the stars don't touch,