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)
Mountain Lullaby
To Vika Naveriani
There are many empty cradles in the hazel thickets.
The dead have become children and want to be sat with,
to be rocked and calmed and sung to:
o my heart, sleep now, there will be nothing like you.

The night is over me and is so depressed over me
that the spring falls and the trees answer it,
grow higher and meeting with other springs...
o my heart, sleep now, there is nothing like you.

When you slept, you would look in on us through the window.
Last year’s pancake is drying out on the table for you.
There will be none other. Another is a compromise, a blunder,
o my heart, sleep now, there will be nothing like you.

There is an old man there and he mentions you with a bow,
as though he is lifted on a narrow palm.
He knows that God hears him, but does not touch the bread
and he lifts his palms and begs Him to take.

Sleep now, my heart, all the stones, grasses and hands –
they look as if a widow begat them and fell on the earth of parting,
and the cry continued as a spring, and the answering sounds
raised a nutgrove from the earth and became on their own...

Oh, it’s pamful to live. But we arose and looked
at the nutgrove by the house where there are so many cradles.
Others did not dare but we endured to the end,
o my heart, sleep now, there will be nothing like you.

And I am standing now, and the trees are like a shirt on me.
I look at the window and hold on my palms without fear
a terribly light palmful of ashes that grieve no one.
O my heart, sleep now, there will be nothing like you.
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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