Momentous sounds issued
From the little belfry close by.
Tossed! Such a made-up word-
What am I, a flower or a letter?
But my eyes already gaze grimly
Into the darkened looking glass.
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Do you hear the soft rustle
Don’t bother to writefor I’ll come to you.Is it possible you are angrywith me like the last time?You say that you don’t want to see my hands,my hands or my eyes.I am with you in your bright, simple room.Don’t chase me awayto where the cold, murky waterflows under the bridge.
So again we triumph!
Our speeches silent,Our words, dumb.Our eyes that have not metAgain, are lost;And only tears forgetThe grip of frost.A wild-rose bush near MoscowKnows something ofThis pain that will be calledImmortal love.
And I grew up in patterned tranquillity,
And the voice of man was not dear to me,But the voice of the wind I could understand.But best of all the silver willow.And obligingly, it livedWith me all my life; it’s weeping branchesFanned my insomnia with dreams.And strange!–I outlived it.There the stump stands; with strange voicesOther willows are conversingUnder our, under those skies.And I…
I have enough treasures from the past
You know as well as I . . . malevolent memorywon’t let go of half of them:a modest church, with its gold cupolaslightly askew; a harsh chorusof crows; the whistle of a train;a birch tree haggard in a fieldas if it had just been sprung from jail;a secret midnight conclaveof monumental Bible-oaks;and a tiny rowboat…
So many stones have been thrown at me,
And the pit has become a solid tower,Tall among tall towers.I thank the builders,May care and sadness pass them by.From here I’ll see the sunrise earlier,Here the sun’s last ray rejoices.And into the windows of my roomThe northern breezes often fly.And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat…As for my unfinished page,The Muse’s…
Glory to you, inescapable pain!
The autumn evening was sultry and red,My husband returned and quietly said:‘You know, they brought him back from the hunt,They found his corpse by the old oak tree.I pity the queen. He was so young! ..In just one night her hair turned white.’He found his pipe on the mantelpieceAnd went out to his nighttime shift.I’ll…