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 Evening Song
To Anna Velikanova

I will call you and my heart will rejoice:
mint, honey, ginger, caraway,
You are the delight of shortening days,
a guest of the earth, Benjamin.

At the hour of birth,
swelled up quicksilver gazes out from a well
and laughs on its very lips
like on a wet-nurse’s breast.

O Creator, in Your canyons,
in the silence of Your deserts,
on a swing of stars swung to the limit,
from the walls of your strongholds,

look out at these locks of hair:
do You see, as I see them,
it seems that all who breathe are children,
all who see are sons;

because each who trespasses against another
will partake of this cup.
O, isn’t it what Moses
saw, hiding among the mountain rocks?

I will call him and he will turn around,
and he will stand, like everyone, alone.
The hour of birth is the hour of orphanhood
as well as widowhood, Benjamin.
Slava I. Yastremski and Michel Naydan
All the Works
Trees, Strong Wind
A Song
To V.V. Bibikhin
A Lullaby
A Childhood Visit to a Village
In Memory of Father Alexander Men’
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