About the Author

From the book Kliazma and Yauza
From the book The Wild Rose  
From the book Tristan and Isolde
From the book Old Songs
From the book Gates. Windows. Arches
From the book Stanzas in the Manner of Alexander Pope
From the book Stellae and Inscriptions
From the book The Iambic Verses
The Chinese Travelogue
From An Unfinished Book
From the book The Evening Song
From the book Elegies
From the book The Beginning of a Book
From the book The Wild Rose
Legends and Fantasies
(1976 - 1978)
Strange Journey
Thus we travelled on: either in tears or hurt by the white light.
I looked round to see how visible it all was.

“As your soul aches and your vision wants to smash
the evil, crooked mirror that has taught you not to love.”

So I recognised with whom I was supposed to be.

My last friend and my first, amazing one, just a tension
between desire and horror, just a movement
to perish, when they don’t want to perish and they do perish
searching for a continuation
in the face, and the face is patient as a plant.

The heart of hearts, which destroyed themselves and were in love with salvation.

We passed through the fields and the fields reflected each other,
leaves flew out of leaves and the circle came out of a circle.
Or a meeting lies in wait, the garden which comes before us,
where you don’t see me, but will see how the leaves look,
the tears burn,
and matter itself will swear
that it was vision and will return to vision.

The train rushes on,
and the soul groans from faces,
moving aside the living tattered rags, like the barbarian, birdlike,
passionate language, to pluck out a reasonable word...
For you are no longer a meeting, nor the blowing to pieces of the coloured circle.

I will travel on and think in my before-heart emptiness,
travel and travel and cry about my endless death...
Richard McKane
The Wild Rose
Second Legend
Sixth Legend
Seventh Legend. Death of Alexis the Roman Saint
Selva Selvaggia
Now in warm gold, in broad bindings...
Preamble to the Song
 Strange Journey
The Flight of the Prodigal Sun
Night Legend. The Nun’s Funeral
Candlemas Day
Names fly out of the magical horn...
Cat, Butterfly, Candle
Water: The Peasant Woman
Eight Octets
In The Mood of Leopardi
I carry two books, as I go I am leaving...
We shall walk slowly and listen attentively...
I often dream of death offering...
Legends about ascetics are similar...
I cannot make them stop their music...
Three Mirrors
Farewell Wind
Somewhere in the corner of a neglected illness...
Journey of the magi
Mountain Lullaby
Morning in The Garden
The Cat’s Look
Azarovka. A Suite of Landscapes
Portrait of the Artist in his Picrure
Tenth Legend. Jacob
Eleventh Legend. Supper
Twelfth Legend. Sergey Radonezhsky
Magic Stone
A Faible
“I raise the radiance, like a fallen hand...
The Old Poet
Copyright © Sedakova All rights reserved >UP >SUPPORT THIS SITE >Design Team Partner >