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Moi et Vous

Я и Вы

Oh! nos mondes ne sont pas les mêmes,
Je viens d'un pays différent,
Ce n'est point la guitare que j'aime,
Mais les bois sauvages stridents.

Au-delà des salles et salons,
Robes et vestes sombres et sages,
Moi, je lis mes poèmes aux dragons,
Aux torrents, aux cascades, aux nuages.

J'aime en arabe des déserts
Qui vers l'eau vivifiante se jette,
Et non en chevalier qui espère
En les étoiles que ses yeux reflètent.

Et c'est point dans mon lit que je trépasse,
En présence de médecin et notaire,
Mais au fond d'une terrible crevasse,
Tout noyée dans le dense lierre.

Pour monter non avec d'autres chrétiens
Aux bons cieux ordonnés et droits
Mais entendre brigand, publicain
Et pécheresse crier : «Lève-toi!»

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Today I can see that your gaze is especially sad; / Your hands are especially slender, encircling your knees. / But listen to this: far away, far away, near Lake Chad / A giraffe paces elegantly. / / A figure of grace and a lifetime of bliss are his boon, / And a magical pattern adorns...


This evening the look in your eyes is especially sad, / And your arms are especially vine-like entwining your calf. / So listen to me: far away, on the shores of Lake Chad / There roams an exquisite giraffe. / / He is gracefully slender and gifted with bliss from within, / And none on ...

Elephant Calf

My love to you is now a little calfy, / An elephant born in Berlin or Paris / Who tramples with his feet that are all water / About the rooms of a managerie owner. / / Don't try to offer him French buns or bagels, / Don't try to offer him large heads of cabbage / For he can only eat a...

The Sixth Sense

It's priceless - wine, that falls in love with us, / And bread, that sits for us in oven, - priceless treasure, / And priceless is a woman that, at last, / After all torments, we possess for pleasure. / / But what to do with clear light of dawn, / When sky's, like heaven, peaceful, deep...


Manlius was thrown down, / The ruling few preserved their wealth, / Their power remains as dour, / As the Tarpeian Rock itself. / / Like the waves Rome was roughing, / Cries were cutting through the gloom, / But the man was gently laughing, / Falling down to meet his doom. / / ...


I know a woman, full of silence, / Her bitter weariness from words, / Dwells in mysterious, blinking eyelids / Their widened pupils, secret worlds. / Her soul is greedily wide open / To copper music of sweet verse. / To life, that’s worldly, pleasant often, / She’s deaf and...