Глухо.
Вселенная спит,
положив на лапу
с клещами звезд огромное ухо.
A line is a fuse
that's lit.
The line smolders,
the rhyme explodes—
and by a stanza
a city
is blown to bits.
Maria!
How can I fit a tender word into bulging ears?
Soon, sampled by everyone,
Stale and pallid,
I’ll come out
And mumble toothlessly
That today I’m
“Remarkably candid.
There’s no grandfatherly fondness in me,
There are no gray hairs in my soul!
Shaking the world with my voice and grinning,
I pass you by, - handsome,
Twentytwoyearold.
Gentle souls!
You play your love on the violin.
The crude ones play it on the drums violently.
But can you turn yourselves inside out, like me
And become just two lips entirely?
Men, crumpled like bed-sheets in hospitals,
And women, battered like overused proverbs.
It must be a little love, - a baby, sort of,
It shies away when the cars honk and hiss,
But adores the bells on the horse-tram.
You entered,
Abrupt like “Take it!”,
Mauling suede gloves, you tarried,
And said:
“You know,-
I’m soon getting married.”
Get married then.
It’s all right,
I can handle it.
You see - I’m calm, of course!
Like the pulse
Of a corpse.
Remember?
You used to say:
“Jack London,
Money,
Love and ardour,”--
I saw one thing only:
You were La Gioconda,
Which had to be stolen!
And someone stole you.
Again in love, I shall start gambling,
With fire illuminating the arch of my eyebrows.
And why not?
Sometimes, the homeless ramblers
Will seek to find shelter in a burnt down house!
You’re mocking me?
“You’ve fewer emeralds of madness
than a beggar kopecks, there’s no disproving this!”
But remember
Pompeii came to end thus
When somebody teased Vesuvius!
Hey!
Gentlemen!
You care for
Sacrilege,
Crime
And war.
But have you seen
The frightening terror
Of my face
When
It’s
Perfectly calm?
And I feel-
“I”
Is too small to fit me.
Someone inside me is getting smothered.
On I’ll pass,
dragging my huge love behind me.
On what
feverish night, deliria-ridden,
by what Goliaths was I begot –
I, so big
and by no one needed?
Tag: love poetry loneliness
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