> On Parting
>
> Teasing and tempting and playing
> We loved like children, us both
> But somebody, hiding a smile,
> Set up the ungentle nets -
> And here we are at the harbor,
> Not seeing the wished-for abodes,
> But knowing that I will be yours
> In the heart, without words, until death.
>
> You told me of all things - so early!
> I guessed them so late! In our hearts
> A wound is eternal, a silent
> Question exists in our eyes,
> The desert on earth is so endless,
> The heaven, so high, has no stars,
> Revealed is the tender secret,
> And frost rules for centuries.
>
> I will talk to shades! O my dear,
> To forget you I do not have might,
> Your visage can't move under shadow
> Of eyelids gone over my eyes...
> It's darkening... Shutters have closed,
> On all things descending is night...
> I love you, one ghostly-eternal,
> And only you - and always!
>
>
> x x x
>
>
> It is true, is it not, that our souls are not used yet to
> parting?
> With a shimmer of glimmering wings they each other call!
> Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly interwoven,
> But forgot the remembering souls.
>
> Every evening, lit up by the will of a sorceress gentle.
> Every evening, when over the hills, in the heart, stands the fog,
> To the soul not forgetting the former deception comes near
> With a meek and not confident walk.
>
> Like the wind, that with sharp gusts awakens the things of times
> prior,
> From the glimmering lines your are smiling at me once again.
> All is permitted, all! You from dream, I in dream. Will not judge
> us
> The angst of the day.
>
> Someone higher betrayed us to nameless delicious torment,
> (Many wanderings blunderings through dark and snow there will
> be!)
> Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly intevowen...
> Not responsible for this are we!
>
>
> To Sergei Efron
>
> Like seaweed are your limbs, like branches
> Of weeping willows of the sea.
> 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.
>
>
> 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.
>
>
>
>
>
> 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 brought.
>
> You're in a fight with maids - you want
> To do all things alone.
> 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!
>
>
>
> 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.
>
>
> To Akhmatova
>
> O muse of weeping, the most beautiful muse!
> O you the child of white night, ever mad and fierce!
> A black snowstorm over Russia you send
> And your cries our hearts like flying arrows pierce.
>
> And we tumble down and a deaf "Oh" -
> A hundred thousand people your name are calling:
> Anna Akhmatova! The name is a giant sigh,
> And she who is nameless into the abyss is falling.
>
> We're blessed that along with you we walk the same
> Earth, that the sky is the same overhead;
> And he, who is wounded with your mortal fate,
> As an immortal goes onto his deathbed.
>
> In my singing city the cupolas are aflame,
> And wandering blind man praises the Spassky light..
> And I give to you my city that's full of bells,
> Akhmatova, and my heart I give to you beside.
>
>
>
> 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 happy foam of the seas!
>
>
> "Comedian"
>
> 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.
>
> Two Songs
>
> 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!
>
>
> Praise to Aphrodite
>
>
> 1
> Blessed are the ones that left your daughters, Earth,
> To fight in wartime battle and to run,
> Blessed are the ones that having never tried
> Comfort went to the fields Elysian.
>
> Thus grows the laurel - writer of the years,
> Heater of battle, sober, with harsh leaves.
> I will never exchange for bitter fate of love
> The friendship's over-the-clouds cliffs.
>
>
> 2
> Already gods' - not the same generosity,
> Upon the shore of river's shore, not the same one.
> Fly, fly again, the doves of Aphrodite
> Into wide open gates of setting sun.
>
> I'll leave in day, in which there is no count,
> Lying upon the sand that's growing cold...
> I've outgrown my youth and look upon it
> Like snake that's looking at his skin of old.
>
>
> 3
> In vain, inside the promised branches hiding,
> Your tender retinue thunders above.
> I drop a myrtle that did love so many,
> I drop the belt that did so sweetness love.
>
> With a dumb arrow that is heavily piercing
> Freed me from these my shackles your own son.
> Thus at the very throne of my calmness
> You born of foam, as a foam be gone!
>
>
> 4
> How many, how many of them, white and blue
> Eat from the hands!
> Whole kingdoms are clucking around your lips
> O Lowliness!
>
> In gold of cup the deadly sweat
> Does not translate.
> The mantle-wearing general will vanish
> Like dove of white.
>
> Every cloud like a chest circles
> In a bad hour.
> There is your visage, O she-devil, in
> Each perfect flower.
>
> You fleeting foam, the salt of the sea..
> In torment and foam -
> For what reason should I obey
> You, armless stone?
>
>
> x x x
>
>
> The demon in me
> Is not dead but lives!
> In self like in jail
> In body like in bilge.
>
> Exit is axe
> From the world that is walls
> (An actor mumbles,
> "A stage is the world.")
>
> And lump-legged jester
> Did not act sly.
> In body - like in glory.
> Like in toga - in body.
>
> Many a year!
> Hold dear that you're alive!
> (Only the poets
> In bone - like in lie!)
>
> We won't make merry,
> Singing brothers,
> In body like in cotton
> Gown of a father.
>
> We cost the better.
> In heat we wilt.
> In body - like in stall.
> In self - like in a pot.
>
> Transitory magnificence
> We do not hold.
> In body - like in morass,
> In body - like in vault,
>
> In body - like in extreme
> Exile. - Wilt!
> In body - like in secret,
> In temples - like in a grip
>
> Of an iron mask.
>
>
>
> Elderberry
>
>
> Elderberry fills the whole garden!
> Elderberry is green, green,
> Greener, than mold on the vat!
> Greener, than summer at the start!
> Elderberry - till the end of days!
> Elderberry greener than my eyes!
>
> And after - through the night - with the fire
> Of Rostov! - it is red in the eyes
> From the trill of bubbly elderberry.
> Redder than measles on one's own body
> In all your times, azure,
> Measles that scatters and pours
>
> Of elderberry - till winter, till winter!
> That in small berry sweeter
> Than poison, what are dissolved paints!
> Of red cotton, sealing wax and Hades
> Mix, a shimmer of corral beads,
> And a taste of baked blood.
>
> Elderberry has been killed, has been killed!
> Elderberry the whole hall filled
> With blood of young and pure,
> With blood of branches of fire -
> With the blood most merry -
> With blood of heart of you and me...
>
> And later - grain's waterfall will be,
> And later - black is elderberry:
> With plum something, sticky something.
> Over the gate, moaning with violin,
> Near the house, which is empty,
> Is lonely bush of elderberry.
>
> Elderberry, without mind, without mind,
> Of your beads, elderberry, am I!
> Steppe - to Mongol, Caucasus - to Georgian will go,
> To me - elderberry bush under window
> Give. Instead of Arts Palace, only
> Give this bush of elderberry.
>
> Newcomers in my country -
> From the berry - elderberry,
> My ruddy childhood thirst,
> From the tree and from the word:
> Elderberry (till this day - at nights...),
> Poison - sucked in by the eyes...
>
> Elderberry is red, is red!
> Elderberry - took the whole land
> In its paws. In power, my childhood all.
> Something like passion criminal,
> Elderberry, between you and me
> Century's disease - elderberry
>
> I would call...
>
> x x x
>
>
> Longing for homeland! Long ago
> Exposed torment! To me
> It is completely all the same
> Where completely lonely to be,
>
> By which stones on the road home
> With the bazaar knapsack to drag
> Home, not knowing, that it's mine,
> Like hospital or a barrack.
>
> It's same to me, among which faces
> Like an imprisoned lion to bristle,
> And from among which people's midst
> To be forced out - without fail -
>
> Into oneself, into individual feelings.
> As polar bear without ice floe
> Where not to live - it's the same to me
> (And I don't dare) - where to go low.
>
> I won't be tempted by the milky
> Call of my own native tongue.
> It is the same to me on which
> To be not sensed by meeting ones.
>
> (To reader of newspaper tons,
> To gulper, milker of rumors.) He
> Is of the twentieth century,
> And I - without a century!
>
> Grown petrified just like a log
> Remaining only of an alley,
> They're all the same, it's all the same,
> And maybe most the same - to me -
>
> Dearer than everything that was.
> All marks from me, all signs that were,
> All dates - brushed off as if by hand:
> Soul, that had once been born - somewhere.
>
> Thus my land did not keep me there,
> That the detective most keen
> Along the soul, across it all!
> The birthmark has not sought or seen!
>
> Alien is home, temple - empty,
> And all's the same and one to me.
> But if along the road a bush
> Rises, especially - ashberry...
>
>
> x x x
>
> I still convey the word and still
> The first one verse I do repeat:
> "I dressed the table for the six"...
> But seventh one you did forget.
>
> It is not merry for us six.
> On faces are the streams of rain+
> How could you over such a table
> Forget the seventh - seventh one+
>
> It is not merry for the guests,
> Idle is pitcher of crystal,
> Sad are they all, sad are you too,
> But saddest is the one uncalled.
>
> It is not merry and not light.
> Ah! You don't drink and do not eat.
> How could you have forgotten this?
> How could you have erred in the count?
>
> How could you, dared, not understand,
> That six (two brothers, the third -
> You, with wife, father and mother) there
> Are seven - that I'm in this world?
>
> You dressed the table for the six,
> But with six the world did not die.
> More than the scarecrow midst the live
> I want to be a ghost - with (mine),
>
> Yours... Shy just like a thief,
> O - never touching but a soul! -
> Behind the silverware unmade
> I sit as seventh one, uncalled.
>
> At once! I overthrew the glass!
> An all that thirsted to be poured -
> All salt from eyes, all blood from wounds -
> From tablecloth - on the floorboards.
>
> And - there's no coffin! No - parting!
> Broken is spell, wakes up the home.
> Like death - onto the wedding feast,
> I'm - life, that to dinner have come.
>
> And I still scold, for nobody -
> Not brother, husband, son or friend:
> "You, dressed the table for six souls,
> Did not seat me upon the end."
>
> Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat