Черной and дерипаска

Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!

But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed in his place.

I shot him dead because –
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although

He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand-like - just as I –
Was out of work – had sold his traps -
No other reason why.

Yes; quaint and curious...

Your love is a subtle knife,
Like a double-edged sword,
Or like a thorn of a Dutch rose…
The magic power of yours
Brings a delightful mental anguish…
Your manners are flirtatious and vampish.
Your eyes… The morning stars, they shine on your visage,
Their light passes through life and death -
Through our existence.
Your lips… Like a forked tongue of a snake
They pierce my soul
And make it shed sweet tears, which you drink
With ecstasy.
Your hair is a golden net,
In which I was...

Forgive; forgive me, o my bonnie lass
For my unwritten messages and letters.
Years, like thunderclouds, pass,
A-freeing us from our fetters.
Forgive me your severest heartache,
My arrogance, which caused you to feel so;
Inside your mind there rages an earthquake,
Which can be subdued by sympathy alone.
The day will come, and we will be united
According to the will and by the pow’r of Him,
Who sent us forth into this world enlightened
From His Celestial Kingdom of Eden.
Eternity will...

The clouds of risen Peroun
Pass, like celestial shields.
He casts the lightning like unblunted arrows
Across the sky and down to the earth.
The thunder thus proclaims the end of the era of ice,
And blessed rain and hail
Consecrate herbs and forests,
Serving the burial service over the deceased Winter.

May-June, 2012
Yekaterinburg-Saratov

The child of the Volga region,
White, like a butterfly in the pitch black night
And fragrant, like an incense in the dungeon,
You stand alone in all your royal might.
Born by the land of the disgraceful strangers,
So cold and wild, and by the Heavens cursed,
Within the glades and mountain ranges,
You dwell on the summit of the Universe.
Your life is sad, but hopefully,
You are a luminary for this World, truly.

June 14, 2012
Saratov

I'll get you out of my head
I won't let you drive me mad
Hurt but unbowed

The sun is bright, the sky is blue
The world still turns without you
Don't ever doubt
I'm feeling powerful and bold
I can take over the world
My will is strict, my mind is cold
I'm fircely proud

The day comes closer to twilight
The sun is slipping out of sight
I'm ready for a fight
I check my hoard, i gain my might
I do the same thing every night
I'm weaving spells around my mind
Not letting you...

Мне не мил белый свет без него.
Когда нет его рядом, мне холодно.
И не светит мне солнце. Его
Не увижу я долго - уходит, но
Он всегда так надолго уходит…

Интересно, куда в этот раз
Он уехал и где остановится?
Кровь застыла от мысли сейчас,
Вдруг сюда он уже не воротится?
Опустел Сердца дом – он уходит.

Я знаю, я знаю, я знаю, я знаю,
Я знаю, я знаю, я знаю, я знаю,
Я знаю, я знаю, я знаю, я знаю,
Я знаю, я знаю, я знаю, я знаю…

Отойти, может, лучше самой?
Не терзать...

Близ Саратова пал вертолёт...-
Очевидно, в расход «Перестройки»,
под улёт её мнимых высот,
но, в итог Беловежской Попойки,
«на троих», кто, узрев облака,
в нюх Свободе, стремглав от Союза
( Но, не дальше!..- Кишка-то тонка...
да к тому же, такая «обуза»! ),
обосрАлись ( Причём, поделом! ),
в духе времени, через отдачу...-
А иначе бы, металлолом,
не спадал, словно «дар», на удачу,
пионерам ли сдохшим, в зачёт,
к железякам их... с макулатурой...,
комсомольцам ли ( Время не ждёт...

Behind the clouds of snow
beyond the bounds of imagination
you live there on your own
but I can get no more then sweet temptation

I draw your face,your eyes and smile
and try to make it clear
but from inside my heart go crazy for a while.
Till I'll hear a word from you
and feel as if its near.

I have been temperate always,
But I am like to be very drunk
With your coming.
There have been times
I feared to walk dawn he street
Lest I should reel with the wine of you,
And jerk against my neighbors
As they go by.
I am parched now, and my tongue is horrible in my mouth,
But my brain id noisy
With the clash and gurgle of filling wine-cups.

Эми Лоуэлл

Предчувствие


Умеренность – давний мой стиль,
Но снова – едва ты приходишь
Пьянею – и нет моих сил –
В соблазн...