He could neither for rank nor for height hope...
Not for fame and not for payment
In his odd style, without a swerve
All through life he's been walking a tightrope,
Not the pavement, not the pavement -
A tightrope strained like a nerve.
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Рубрика: Стихи на Английском/ENGLISH
Ballad of the Free Archers (Translated by Eugenia Weinstein, June ’99)
If they scour, wicked fellows,
Seeking your unruly pate,
So your thin neck on the gallows
Even thinner could be made, -
Safest refuge, no doubt,
Is the wood: you won't be lost,
If some rat has sold you out
With your guts, at no cost.
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Song About Earth (Translated by Eugenia Weinstein, June ’99)
Who could say: "All was burned to a crisp,
Earth will never again be fertile!"?
Who could say that it ceased to exist?
No, it quieted down for a while.
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Where Are You, Wolves? (Translated by Eugenia Weinstein, Sept. ’02)
To Mikhail Shemyakin
Like a razor, the daybreak slashed over the eyes,
>From the rot of the river took off dragonflies,
Then the gun shutters opened, as if by a spell,
And the gunners appeared, as sure as hell,
And the merriment started - full-swing, at full pelt!
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Someone Spotted a Fruit… (Translated by Eugenia Weinstein, Jan. ’99)
Someone spotted a fruit, still green,
Shook the tree, and it fell to the ground...
Here's one who had no chance to sing,
Never knew that his voice had a sound.
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