2004-05-28 18:18:13 UTC
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.
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 -
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
I know the aimlessness of such a promise
Its pointlessness too.
Letter to endlessness - letter to limitlessness -
Letter into the blue.
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.
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!
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!
This my youth! O this my alien youth!
This my alien youth, my boot unpaired!
Purposefully narrowing the inflamed eyes,
Thus a leaf from calendar they tear.
From among your very acquisitions
Nothing took away the thoughtful Muse.
You were both a burden and encumbrance
To me. I don't ask you back, my youth.
You whetted the arrows in the nighttime,
You whispered within the night with comb.
I have suffered for the sins of others
Pressed down with your generosity, like stone.
Your scepter before its time returning -
Of what use is evidence to the soul!
O my youth! My tired youth you are!
You my tattered rag that once was whole!
Soon from swallows - into sorcerers!
Youth! We will say farewell before then...
We will stand in the wind soul to soul!
My tan one! My sister console!
With a skirt of raspberry flare,
You my youth! My dove you are
Tan! Waste of my soul!
You my youth! Dance and console!
Wash me with a shawl of azure,
My insane one! We have played with you
For a plenty! Dance a while and spar!
My gold - farewell - amber!
For a reason your arms touch I,
Like to a lover I say goodbye.
Torn away from depths within my breast -
My youth! Go to someone else!
With complete meekness.
Light and soft is
Air over abyss.
Growing at once,
Like lightning - in time,
As if by an order
There will be a blossom.
With a snake hair...
Himself defenseless -
Not a flame-bearer!
He to me? I to him?
I'll try, I know.
Into death I will go.
Lethe's underwater light,
Reef of a red heart.
Lancet has stopped short,
Closing the singing throat:
Not the red heat of metal,
Not the difficulties' heat -
A never-dissolved pearl in
Bitterness of singing throats.
Sorrow sorrow! In it all
We cut, swim and die.
For not dissolved is the pearl
In the voice's ray...
Pearl! With iron into wheeze,
Thousands drills and saws -
A never-extruded thorn in
Bitterness of singing throats.
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
("The world is a stage",
The actor recalls).
And lump-legged jester
Did not act sly.
In body - like in toga.
In body - like in glory.
Many a year!
Hold dear that you're alive!
(Only the poets
In bone - like in lie!)
We won't make merry,
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.
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.
The time did not think of a poet,
And I don't care to think of him.
God be with him, with noise and thunder,
He did not come within my time!
If time has not time for ancestors,
I've no time for grandsons as well.
My time's my bane, my time's my damage,
My time's my foe, my time is hell.
Despair 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...
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."