| From the book The Wild Rose | Legends and Fantasies
(1976 - 1978) |  |
I cannot make them stop their music:
neither the angel, that sounds like a crevice,
nor the Galilean pipes
of the disciple,
nor the saint, alive
in this world, as the strings of the psaltery,
under the experienced hand of Your terrible meetings.
The music lives in huge circles,
like a thousand rings with immortal stones,
like the rapture of matter –
and rarely touches the heart of the poor.
But falling and nodding by the folds,
like a living, heavy curtain,
the thinking spirit promises me:
they all sound there, but You are still the hearing.
Richard McKane
***
From music I can not tear away
either an angel who sounds like wind in a crevice,
or the Galilean reed-pipe
of a disciple,
or a saint who once lived
in the world, like the strings of the psaltery
under the skillful hand of Your awe-inspiring encounters.
Music lives in enormous circles
like a thousand rings with immortal stones,
like the rapture of matter,
slightly touching the heart of a pauper.
But failing down and bowing with the folds,
like a heavy, living curtain,
a thinking spirit promises me that
everything will resonate there, but You remain – hearing.
Slava I. Yastremski and Michel Naydan
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