Стихотворения

453. THE SAIL{*}

Amid the blue haze of the ocean
a sail is passing, white and frail.
What do you seek in a far country?
What have you left at home, lone sail?

The billows play, the breezes whistle,
and rhythmically creaks the mast.
Alas, you seek no happy future,
nor do you flee a happy past.

Below the mirrored azure brightens,
above the golden rays increase —
but you, wild rover, pray for tempests,
as if in tempests there were peace.

<Весна 1946>

454. THE ROCK{*}

The little golden cloud that spent the night
upon the breast of yon great rock, next day
rose early and in haste pursued its way
eager to gambol in the azure light.

A humid trace, however, did remain
within a wrinkle of the rock. Alone
and wrapt in thought, the old gentle stone
sheds silent tears above the empty plain.

<Весна 1946>

455. IMITATION OF HEINE{*}

A pine there stands in the northern wilds
   alone on a barren bluff,
swaying and dreaming and clothed by the snow
   in a cloak of the finest fluff —

dreaming a dream of a distant waste,
   a country of sun-flushed sands
where all forlorn on torrid cliff
   a lovely palm tree stands.

<Весна 1946>

456. THANKSGIVING{*}

For everything, for everything, О Lord,
I thank Thee —
for the secret pangs of passions,
the poisoned fangs of kisses,
the bitter taste
of tears;
for the revenge of foes
and for the calumny of friends,
and for the waste
of a soul's fervor burning in a desert,
and for all things that have deceived me here.
But please, О Lord,
henceforth let matters be arranged
in such a way
that I need not keep thanking Thee
much longer

<Ноябрь 1946>

457. THE SKY AND THE STARS{*}

Fair is the evening sky,
clear are the stars in the distance,
as clear as the joy of an infant.
Oh, why can't I tell myself even in thought:
The stars are as clear as my joy!