По стените на старата къща…

По стенам опустевшего дома...

По стените на старата къща
скачат призраци всяка минута.
И ридаят, крещят и се мръщят
триста гнома в дома безприютен.

По столовете, масите, пода… —
вие също ги бихте съзрели.
Мрази светлото тази порода.
Лъч не виждат по цели недели…

А телцата им болни и странни
трепкат като листата наесен,
откогато са тук без стопанин —
в този дом, допреди жив и весел.

Става все по-унило и тихо,
все по-душен е вътре животът.
Те тогава сами удушиха
своя собствен стопанин в леглото.

Погребалните свещи изтляха,
отшумя и печалният спомен.
Само шушнат под старата стряха
неми укори, сълзи бездомни.

По стените на старата къща
скачат призраци всяка минута.
И ридаят, крещят и се мръщят
триста гнома в дома безприютен.

Другие переводы:

А вот еще:


From the grave / you hear wonderful bells, / you smell / the whitest lilies. / / From the grave / you sec God’s light / and the glowing flight / of seraphim’s wings. / / You’re dying, yes, / your lovely hands are cold, / you don’t believe, you don&rs...

The Lost Tram

A strange street, then crows / croaking, then the sound of a lute / and thunder crawling slow / from a distance - then a tram at my feet / / And I leaped, somehow, and the railing / held, and I stood, dazed, / stupidly watching a trail / of fire streaking like sunrays. / / Rush...

The Word

Then, when God bent His face / over the shining new world, then / they stopped the sun with a word, / a word burned cities to the ground. / / When a word floated across the sky / like a rose-colored flame / eagles closed their wings, frightened / stars shrank against the moon. / ...

The Master Artists’ Prayer

I remember an ancient artists’ prayer: / Keep us, Lord, from students / / Who push our wretched genius / toward the blasphemy of new revelations. / / Honest and open enemies we can deal with, / but this kind hangs in our footsteps / / And smiles, and laughs, as we fight - ...


Snakes shed their skins / and their souls grow mellow. / We do it differently, we change / souls, not bodies. / / Like an Amazon, Memory leads life / like a horse on a rope: / Tell me, Memory, who lived / in this body before I came. / / The first one: homely, thin, / loving o...

The Forest

White trunks / were stark, suddenly, against the haze, / / Roots wound up out of the ground / like corpses’ arms. / / The leaves’ bright fire / hid giants, dwarves, lions; / / Fishermen saw in the sand / the print of a six-fingered hand. / / No French noble, n...