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)
The Flight of the Prodigal Sun
You are just like the heart after running,
an unprecedented triumph,
you are life, living to the point
that you groan looking out of the ark
at the depths of anger itself
and you demand destruction:
movements in horror, plunging into
jubilant matter.

I do not exist when there’s no sea
of your obsessive reprimands.
In your name I only love
your searching grief.
Others sought light in it.
I have no brother, no advice.
I don’t pity anyone.

Let love fumble round the house,
and the doors are locked –
the black garden strikes me in the eyes,
swaying like the beam of a streetlamp.
The garden, as a spirit, when oaths
burned in fire and ate the earth,
and as the spirit it is dense as of old.

You order us to live – but I will not.
You call – but I am silent.
O death, the overfilling of the miracle.
Father, I want horror.
Let the soul, like Judas
go along the black ray,
visible from everywhere!

As though in the well’s depth
all the stars sucked
into one star, heavy in its likeness;
dragged down to the bottom
so fast that it swears
that it will see the suffering through – and return
eating the depth like darkness

and reflecting to the end
the face of the loving father.
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
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