Читать «A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений» онлайн - страница 162

[1960s]

645. Владимир Смоленский (1901–1961). «Как лебедь медленно скользящий…»

A graceful swan that's slowly gliding upon the mirror of the lake, a falcon in the clouds abiding — my dream-invented world is riding in phantom imagery's wake. Between its wings, unfurled and gleaming, I slowly drift, not knowing where, sweetly and languorously dreaming, regretting nothing, nor redeeming, melting in this transparent air. And this prophetic voice of mine, voice of my soul in dream's embrace, above abysmal darkness flying, is echoed hollowly, and, dying, it disappears without a trace.

[1960s]

646. Владимир Смоленский(1901–1961). «They will live very crowded — this Earth like a jail they will crowd…»

They will live very crowded — this Earth like a jail they will crowd, Cod and hell and eternity even they all will deny, and their houses of steel and concrete will reach up to the cloud, and a huge zeppelin to the farthermost planet will fly. And when over this world that is whirling the trumpet does sound, and the firmament over this Earth opens wide like a gate, and the lights all go out, and the graves open up in the ground, none will then understand what is meant or believe anymore.

[1960s]

647. Владимир Смоленский(1901–1961). «В полночный час, когда луна…»

At midnight, when the pallid moon, shivering as from cold and pain, within its bluish aureole soars upward past your windowpane, when burnt by the celestial cold silently floating in the dark its rays that shimmer in the night are barely heard above the park, then, through the stillness and the dream, in all your grief of long ago, you will approach your windowsill and push the panes apart and go out of the darkness gliding up a path by human eyes unseen on which your foot will never slip nor will you falter or careen. And in the ringing solitude with hand outstretched and sleeping eyes heavy and cumbersome and slow above the darkness you will rise until from out the icy space, the earthly blackness void and still, some reveller's nocturnal voice suddenly rises sharp and shrill. Then, jolted, will the heavens rock and swim, and lights go out that shone, and dead onto the stones below the moon will tumble like a stone.