> Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
> ==============================
>
> 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 of it all,
> 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, I thought,
> With things that were dear to me -
> More strongly, than I did want.
>
> "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 pass me by as you stroll,
> I don't touch your hand at all.
> But my angst is eternal yet,
> That you be the first I met.
>
> Heart said "Darling!" out of control,
> I forgave you it all,
> Knowing nothing - not even the name!
> Love me, love me, I exclaim.
>

>>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 love 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, I say,

>>From what island were you born away?

>
> 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, fine one,
> 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 dreadfully 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
> Underneath my window.
>
> 9
> I'll repeat in hour of parting
> When love comes to end
> That I loved, yes that I loved truly
> Your masterful hands
>
> And the eyes - somebody isn't
> Gifted with a glance! -
> Those that answer are demanding
> For a look every 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 - hear 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,
> Night is one under skies.
> Pierced by the light of the moon
> Window deepened -
> Like sheet of ice.
>
> "You give up" - the voice burst.
> "I didn't fight, it was my 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 crow soon
> Parting for two young
> Ladies.
>
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