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 Old Poet
He walks round the room and freezes.
But it’s strange to think how his coat feels the icy cold.
The freezing cold outside is reminiscent
of wine, which no one remembers now.

A swallow, and wondrous things begin:
the cage will open, and the bird of the rain
will look into the room like a human being,
as though the candles had wept on the page,
as though people nod their heads as they go away in tears.

Then he remembers who is a friend and who is the perpetrator,
and his guest and his host and his grief,
and who cried, plucking the wild rose within,
and asked for everything and took nothing.

What a sad business this is!
Not a word, not a word, not a thousand words,
but the fact that the soul as now has gone cold
when the flower of the coldnesses has opened.

Forgive and remember, forgive and confess:
nothing is ever worthy of itself.
In the cloud of pain, in the darkness of constancy
I will smile again and nod my head as I go away.

But you must repeat: this is the same, the same,
that was and will be, and overflows the rim.
But I am already there where no one can help.
But you must repeat,
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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