Rat-Catcher, Цветаева Марина Ивановна, Год: 2022

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CITY OF HAMMELN
(First Chapter)
Old and ancient is city of Hammeln,
Meek in word, strict in deed,
True in little, true in main:
Hammeln — is a glorious town!
In the night, as needs the comet,
Sleep without oversleep entire.
Slender built, clearly with mint,
Until cuteness similar
‘I won’t go to gunfire!’
To the own burgomaster.
In city Hammeln it’s cheap to sow:
In is only one style.
In city Hammeln it’s cheap to live
And it is calm to die.
Dime — carcass, nickel — jar,
Cream, penny — cottage cheese.
In city Hammeln, you know, one
Product is expensive:
Sin.
(We’ll ask granddads:
Expensive — scarce.)
Not the unbelted brides,
Not debtors — and besides
Beer — not thirst in the hearts.
On the weight of gold and blood —
Sin. Half-century
(Fifty years) in one bed
Having safely overslept,
They speed further. ‘Together we sweated,
Decayed together. Mattress, grass —
What is the difference?
(For four years God forbid
That I sleep in feather bed!
Better be hired to bathe a pug!)
Did accept the souls God.
And illumination: Suddenly
Such ones there hadn’t been?
Hands — to raise hryvna from penny,
Feet — the debt is not granted.
But what for is soul, enlighten me?
Not deeply did unfit
Like jardiniere — hammock — clarinet —
In our everyday life — object?
In city Hammeln — unsubscribe —
Not a clarinet there is.
In city Hammeln — not a soul.
But the brodies? For this!
Dense, durable. Like a stalwart, bull,
Costs a dozen souls.
And dahlias — to pose,
Face down! George, bow!
Citizen of city of Hammeln —
This comes out proud.
Don’t forget, scholars: ‘To see
Hammeln — and to die!’
Juri, and Rohrei, and Ruhr suns nicht
An (in dictionary: don’t touch us!) —
Mix. And why are their eyes
Into earth? At first — modesty,
And…. Thrift: stared
The button to the pants!
Here stops the reader. — You lie,
Author! You rub in the glasses!
In Eldorado when and who
Loses the buttons?
Beggars. Those, who from dirt are rotten —
Carrying typhus in bedroom —
Aliens. Fast printing of sorrows,
Unpaid happiness’s number.
In Hammeln there are no beggars.
Was, was, once — and died then.
The thin body away from bodies
Wished to bury the full ones
Pastor, — and right: not simpleton
Pastor, — we don’t howl ‘Hosannah!’
The full won’t forgive the thin one
Not a thread, not the pant’s button
So that would know someone:
Not a trifle — a button!
(Little diversion into side of button: )
With the button whole stock and life
Hold. Sober — they’ll hook up.
Button! Before-Adam shame!
Of fashions and freedoms within —
Death. Like forelock to Bulba —
To everyone you — and bellybutton to Buddha.
With button — all straight to dust,
Into dirt. Don’t lose, dissolute one,
The buttons! Before-Adam falling down
Only with you is atoned,
Fig’s! And wherefore the leaf —
(‘Mensch wo bist?’) — of the fig?
What not prototype of her? (‘Bin nackt,
Nude — I’m timid’) —
How not rudiment, not the first step….
Button — in the idea!
Buttons (nude stomach, heed) —
Thus the idea — is here:
For distinction of connecting rod —
Smoke — of the sheep of the Lord:
Buttoned up the child of God?
And unbuttoned is the goat —
All! Although a kin to angels,
Husband — button up for all!
Not with the ghosts at night —
The entire Bedlam vacant! —
Beggars, geniuses, rhymers,
Noise-makers, musicians,
Convicts…
How to take on weight:
Without the head,
Without button! Without pants! Barefoot!
From Pugach — to Saint Just?!
If the button — is a trifle,
What, gentlemen, is full?
For the state one — like the ground
To the tree and belly — a pound
Of sterling. And will tear off — beggars!
Revolt! They are smashing the cellars!
Have fun, mother, while is
With the button — the nose:
The sign of good morals. (My one of Rus
Clearly one of a hooked nose —
In us).
* * *
Far from buttons’ emptiness,
From the stubby verities! The muse!
From revolution will not save us —
Button. And they sever —
All? Though with demons born —
Bard — unbutton for all?
(Here ends the ode to the button, and the narration resumes.)
City of beds —
Hammeln, manners —
Of kind, full
Storages — heaven
City….
The joy of God —
Hammeln, of sound —
City, right ones —
City…
Heaven-city, share-city, everyone-his-pay-takes, —
Hon-city, ahead of time — buy — city.
Without fires —
City, goodness —
City, Abel —
City. — Heaven —
City.
Who’s not cold
And not hot
Right in Hammeln
Has gone —
Chew-city, heaven-city, ermine-city.
Kulak-city, at time — go to sleep — city.
The first bypass!
The first bypass!
Torn are connections with the world!
Is dog let out? Is cat let in?
This is the first warning.
Sirs, unbuckle the servants!
You — shake out the barrel, at ease!
The labor, leaving the bench:
‘Morgen ist auch ein Tag.’
Without ten!
Without ten!
To calk the ears with cotton!
To take textbooks into desk!
For five — the alarm to set.
Leave the chalk, shop-keeper,
Leave the pantyhose, bur-gher,
And straighten the mattress on bed:
‘Morgen ist auch ein Tag.’
It is ten!
It is ten!
There’s no more interjection!
Is key in? Does bolt fit?
The third warning.
Close the bi-ble, father!
Put on cap, bur-gher,
Husband, the hat put on —
‘Morgen ist auch ein…’
Hammeln’s women
Sleep…
DREAMS
(Chapter 2)
In other cities,
In mine (through — region-city)
Husband see maidens
Of sea, wives — of Byron,
Babies — demons,
Servants — horsemen…
And you, Morpheus,
To Hammelnites sinless
Is dreamt — and what?
Sharp — and not
Hefty! Husband sees wife,
Wife sees husband,
Baby — cook,
Beauty with fat cheeks —
The nose of dad,
Which she did mend.
The chef — tastes,
The master — demands.
All as should,
All as should.
Hook in the needle —
Thus smooth is all.
Paul sees Peter,
And Peter sees Paul,
Of course — the grandkids
Granddad (point — prosaist),
Servant — hotbed
And the kind hosts.
Commandment- Caspar,
Sermon — pastor.
Without gain so
To sleep — not bad so?
The poods of sausage
Sausage man (with bacon),
The scales are seen by trial,
Pharmacist has the scales,
To the tutor — the cane,
Fruit of his sewing deeds —
To tailor. To dog — bone?
Collar: we erred!
Cooker — plucked,
Laundress — plush.
How it is written!
How it is written!
‘And the burgomaster?’
‘What in life — in dream.’
Since he’s burgomaster,
What is to him
Besides seeing burghers,
His men?
And the burgomaster —
His bondmen.
Deed harmonious,
Folded dress —
As is due!
As is due!
(Only playful is my tone:
There’s good — in old!)
And that the rhythm, then,
Did not tread down in vain —
Let’s get through, while he sleeps,
Into his palace (tsar builds!)
Firmly he stands
And he gains
Our attention…
* * *
Not breaking the lock,
Not dripping the rug —
In homes of wealth,
What is the first smell.
Marginal, like taste,
Like Torah, merciless,
Like flux, shameless,
On the actor’s face.
All flesh of matter, —
(Accounts in cover
Of parchment!) all
Of flesh incorporeal
In him: rot till cartilage.
Do not with leprosy play!
Not suchness of things, —
Essence incorporeal:
Bouquet for her — all!
Beat the smells!
Not suchness of things —
Essentiality of things.
Not suchness of things —
O! Did not spend the day!
The rotting vegetables —
Thus the cellars smell —
Preferring him.
Wondrous spirit of fullness!
There’s the stench of cleanness.
The whole stench of cleanness in him!
Not a smell, but a sound:
Sound of the loud purse.
With the suede of the hands
On the velvet of red handrails —
And over me
Stinks the plenty!
With contentment — quite.
And if with the dust —
Not ours — with the spring
They’ll take, so what is for us?
Not beggar: Perforated,
And velvet — damask —
Curtain. Gathering
Of beauties, en masse
Of beauties and purity,
And if in later days —
Solid, with brand
Of metal ward,
Not ours (with goat),
But to the bank’s, fat
Vests: I won’t give.
Up to the heaven
O hatred! — the hundred-headed
Temple for thee —
For all and for all.
* * *
Not taking off bolt,
Not touching the lock,
(Noticed? That in dreams
The bolts do not moan,
The locks do not knock.
Brother without lock —
Dream. Ladies — without gates.
All? — the shades?
Thieves in dreams).
Hundred? — to you brides.
All? — with bracelets.
Without — responsibly.
Without — obstructedly.
With — the groom’s hour!
For thefts! For robberies!
Let out the rooster
In family homes!
In double fatties,
In husbands without name.
Beautiful is the rooster —
Like walls — like flags
In other cities…
The lock not touching,
We’ll see, how sane
In good mansions
Of his — burgomaster.
* * *
Housewifely, ruddy —
Go to bed, burgomaster.
The week that has been completed —
The burgomaster’s forehead.
What is imagined? What is dreamt of
By burgomaster? Not-a-thing.
Not a thing (like from fat-mountain
Sweat), that is: citizens.
Sleep, fat one, true one, in peace,
The burgomistress
Wife of burgomaster:
Tit, filling the goiter.
What do I imagine? What is dreamt
By burgomistress? (it would be good,
Tearing out from feather beds…)
Citizens, to her — women citizens.
To that — lost without news,
Caesar is near — to this…
And the woman of decency
Does not have any dreams.
Sleep-sleep, do not trust the
Daughter of burgomaster.
Solomon’s wheat —
Braids, rivers quick.
What is imagined? What is dreamt of
By the daughter of burgomaster?
Smells, whispers…
All — and still more!
TO ATTACK
(Chapter three)
Aunts-rattlers,
Cooks-chatterers,
Wallets, caps —
Chatterboxes-broads.
For doctor, grease!
For pharmacists, grass!
The fresh, ruddy
Light for pastor!
The fi-nal milking!
Girls-churns.
Juicy semolina!
Cookers-mincers.
Health, happiness,
Strength for three months!
Fresh ox veins
For artisans!
Aunts-rattlers,
Traders-shouters
Blouses on cloth —
Hostesses — know-it-alls.
The fresh tripe!
Of rooster alive!
Buttery, not dry!
For the groom, heart!
Cream-last!
Neighbors-with good heart.
Fresh one! From glacier!
Gossips-advisers!
If you don’t believe — weigh!
Won’t fry — fire away!
The feathers of the goose
For justice of the peace!
Vegetables for edges!
Consciences for judges!
Chickens — guinea fowls,
Brides — ones old,
Fresh from the beds
Are the short brides.
Don’t squeeze but crush!
Red is not radish!
Penny with plate!
For burgomaster, brains!
Take what you want!
Skirts, bonnets!
Cooks-confusers,
The ruddy cooks.
Flattened noses:
What that is tasty?
Palms to the screens:
What that is fatty?
To catch out.
To fish out.
To ferret out.
To gain out.
All cases they took from armchairs!
And the guests! And the guests!
Now they baptize the baker!
And the news! And the news!
Quiet ulcers.
One in trachoma
Eye, foams another.
Sitter — shops with coffee.
Older is the bride!
And the garb! And the garb!
They say, at the postman…
They say… They say…
The snooper ulcers,
Frightened till death — slanderers,
Carry litter on the square!
Chicorn plants — intrigues.
I put on a green tie!
Lovelace! Lovelace!
Butcher quarreled with mother-in-law!
And in us! And in us!
Ra-ri-ties…
Tricks….
Khe-khe-khe…
Khi-khi-khi…
The burgomaster’s Greta!
Not that one! Not that one!
In the light the third night sits!
What is? What is?
The candle she burns…
Her century she burns…
She waits for happiness…
She will go into the grave…
Some tablecloths — three poods!
So, one! So, one!
I won’t be after another, dad.
Not a wife! Not a wife!
Sin-such…
Shame-such…
Khe-khe-khe…
Khi-khi-khi…
Not in juice! Not in juice!
Only the knuckles to look…
Coffee! Coffee!
To us in mug! To us in mug!
The woman’s club
Is closed:
The soup
Boils over.
* * *
City of ridges
Hammeln, of manners
Kind, of full
Stores —
Measure! Sacred cry!
Laughed — whine!
Puffed up — into mud!
Prince will be proportionate
With his anger and his mild.
Upgraded the barn,
Was king too long — riot:
Zuviel ist ungesund.
In measure! Count and weigh!
He had a lunch — pain,
(Bald spot — scraped),
Coffin — refasted,
Cured — the plague!
Even going insane
In measure: click on pound:
Zuviel ist ungesund.
In measure to be able to and dare:
The scourge — did slander,
But to not smooth over!
Only not to hand over!
Not pen — the edge — across!
Even in measure know:
Measure: question of seconds.
Zuviel ist ungesund.
In measure! Im rechten Mass!
Deceive the loyal eyes.
In kingdom — long ago — chimeras —
Faith and eye measurers.
Measure and centimeter!
Here’s it, of reasonable years
Slogan, our Tugendbund.
Zuviel ist un —
Not one beauty — hear, lard?
Surplus does harm.
Overfilling the storage with rice
Rats — with sequence.
Sago, fat, and soap — in measure,
Give, misters!
On the market resounds thus:
‘Barn-warehouses.’
Thus, in measure of bounty: so that
Not much, and not little.
Thus hums over living fat:
‘Warehouses-rubble.’
To you, sated and mean,
To you, fat and jawbone:
Spite of fullness! Spit
From the open tables!
But — in him is the nail! —
There — is the hunger’s spite.
Spite of those, who do not eat:
Not to eat — will get bored!
Of the powerless not the spite!
(The shot of the rat).
Spite of those, who do not eat:
To-day it trots,
And tomorrow — is hung.
(The trot of a rat).
Home. Warehouse.
Will-eat
Till-crumbs.
(Pea of a rat).
In vain — stole,
In vain — laid,
In vain — roed
(Gallop of rat).
Smooth — head —
Tocsin of rat.
Head — noise
The rat’s collapse.
Sack! Break —
The head of rat!
* * *
And on the bag, and on the sack —
As if over a corpse!
‘The rats and grain’
Abruptly rolls.
(Your tooth,
Head spine!)
Blasphemed messiahs
Of lower class!
Thus whistle on living meat:
‘Reserves-rats!’
(Your splash,
Head tail!)
***
Swear, they squeal, head swallow!
They took warehouse, give them eyes!
All night stomped like a batallion!
And with us! And with us!
Ears! Manners!
The sharp-eared Zandas!
All the papers
They dug out, they smelled!
Swear, they scream, the commander!
Thought — handful, see — host!
They scream, on the saucer
The burgomaster to submit!
This whirlwind
Short-mustached
Having bitten
All the buttons
On the pants!
Schande!
Schande to us!
Bands!
Master? The mustache to salt!
You to them: Oh! They: beat!
We have Bible: on finger,
Say — on her is the fat!
Oh, shameless!
Oh, cheeky!
All the gravy boats
We have spoiled!
They won’t save, they scream, prayers!
You to them: Gott! They: head!
All judicial on letters
They have pilfered the statute!
Oh, cheeky!
Oh, shabby!
All the sugar-bowls
They spit up!
The whole world threatens to shake!
Sun vertex! Brain circling!
And from Russian lands,
With the ship, they tell.
Citizens!
Solder!
Schande to us:
Hordes!
For them, no sleep, no bidding:
You to them: once! They — a hundred!
‘There will not be sugary heads —
And what for are traders?’
Little of it:
By the hand writ
All the annals
Poo —
Swear, they screech, to official!
The shame! The passion!
Not like rat from the face of it…
Is it the rats indeed?
Bald spots!
Skeins!
Have you heard?
In the red!
Precursive brand:
You to them: God, they: Satan!
Jump — on tower spitz:
You to them: Herz, they: Tsits!
You to them: rank, they: trash!
You to them: dust! They: cash!
You to them: Build! They: under!
You to them: Three! They: fire!
Though not barefoot — sucker of blood,
Though not beaten — parasite,
And the tongue!
And the tongue!
And the tongue!
And the tongue!
We have: sale, they have: prod,
And the tongue does not take!
I thought: died, you see: glom, —
And the arsenic does not take!
For us: robbery, for them: clod,
For us: crowd, for them: sloe,
Commissariat, commissar —
You will splinter the tongue!
In new world, I say, breach:
Did not sweat — so do not eat,
Did not puff — so do not eat,
Did not shoot — so did not eat.
Till the date, I say, whole:
Did not sweat — to be shot,
Did not want — to be shot,
Did not shoot — to be shot!
(With the tone of accusatory act):
In a theft.
In nepotism.
In slander.
In sorcery.
(With the tone of conspiracy):
All? We white?
All.
In what is deed?
In word.
(Trying to articulate):
Did not waste.
Did start.
Integral.
Interval.
Messed.
Got dressed.
Interna-
tio…
Enough of tales!
Listen to herald!
Who’s son to home,
I notify him…
Not going deep in particular:
Hammeln in danger!
Of mountain and valley!
To listen to the herald!
Every and seven times every:
Know: on the hair
That already tears —
Is the estate of ours,
Glory and class,
Citizens, voice
Of the lady, not wasting words:
The town hall’s ordinance:
‘Let him be demon, or yid,
That who will free
City from ratty darkness,
In burgomaster’s house —
As son entered — I ask to know:
Son means: son-in-law.
(Drum crackling.)
In Hammeln… anno
Domini…’
* * *
In that same hour — blame the policeman:
Why did he not guard?! —
In the city slowly came in
Man in green — with a pipe.
WITHDRAWAL
* * *
(Chapter Four)
Tee-ree-lee —
On the German soil’s seedlings,
Tee-ree-lee —
On its cities
I step,
My mistress — Music — I glory.
Now — here,
But the half, not the whole!
Tee-ree-ram,
Tomorrow — there,
And although slander everywhere —
Old and small,
No one heeded with cool
And nobody denied in the long
Look — behind.
Only where we’re not is it good!
Heartbreaker!
It is only good for us, when you’re new there:
Not certainly, not questioned, not called.
‘Got accustomed,’ —
This slime is known as — life!
Move!
Do not spare the hatched places!
Through the bridge!
Do not spare the hatched nests!
Thus the flutist — be gone, thrift!
Change!
Thus the peacock
Doesn’t count the colors of his.
Tee-ree-lee!
Be gone, bags and workers!
Tee-ree-lee!
Bags and chests, break through!
Instead of Hammeln’s — not farm, flute!
Stepping stone —
Croup and lindens.
Pearls and palms from India.
Overflow.
Man not keykeeper of storerooms!
Mat,
Worm, and rear — not man!
This — Hammeln, and there’s Himalayas:
The garden of heaven.
Such and such —
This slag is called — Heaven!
Tear away!
On the roads blooms holly!
Go away!
In the ravines blooms barbary —
Sour.
So be full!
This shame is called: holy.
From places, rats!
Do not live with satiety: eat!
From eyes, rats!
Beset with satiety — will pass
Sword…
Will slander the catchers of rats!
The words’ matter:
The rat-catcher?
The rat-lover: love, while catching!
Rats, in…
What are we?
What’s the matter?
It is nauseous!
Tiresome!
It is tasty —
What’s the secret?
It is boring —
Extremely.
Without a struggle man lives not.
My belly is growing out:
Like in tsar’s rats, till the knees.
Thus it all has sagged — in me.
Without a struggle man is tenant not!
My vest has come apart
On the stomach: flaw, not discord.
A bald patch I have grown.
Life — not to live!
Unlearned to eat!
Not a hike, but things sweet!
Unlearned to steal!
In morning — rolls, not less than two.
I am losing my hearing.
Coming loose is my tooth.
For me chills the itching
In teeth..
Without servants I don’t fit in the shoe…
There is such a road — highway…
Without struggle and ravines — the jail…
It is good without boots!
Not a hike — a churchyard.
My tail is going dry.
In midday — dumplings, not less than three…
Thus has completely dried out in me.
Without malice, without hurting…
Thus ripens the goiter.
Barely shoed-clothed —
And again dinner
In three courses…
Would have passed by a verst if you knew!
Remember the ancient cloth: the hood?
Knock and joint,
Bayonet and hat…
Without servant I don’t fit in the cuff…
There’s such road — highway…
In that land, where the steps are wide
We have been named…
I no longer have strength: pass!
Becoming blurred are my eyes.
Falls the syllable of mine.
Thus has gone numb the brain
Of mine.
To Moscow! To Karlsbad!
In me sinks the spine.
In me, on mornings, backache.
In me — thus has sagged
To the earth…
Skies — and to God!
Hernia!
Heartburn!
Get used to —
And lid!
Sated —
Especially.
Three such days — and ready!
I start loving cats
And merchants…
They will hit — I ask.
Tomorrow my daughter I baptize:
To me the same,
And to her — aim.
Not a bivouac — roost!
The gesture I lose.
FLEUT:
Somewhere is Hindus….
They start to go into screw.
To distinguish yours.
To lock up the clothes.
Waved without pants!
Injecting starch I start
Into the toilet.
To wax floor by hand.
Sirs, secret:
Loathsome to me is red
Light.
To all of us!
From shame at seven I go to bed.
The raid’s not bad!
I start to fear bridge
Under bridges.
Mass.
Of the mother’s eyes.
And I — shooting!
Why nobles have count of arms, —
And we…
Smoothly —
Like with mop!
Bribes!
Gout!
Into the hold!
Into the hold!
Cabinets.
Seals.
Into the very city and into the same storm!
FLEUT:
Ov-er-feeding.
All behind I’ll eat.
And naturally: after schemes
Diagram — into stock!
Appeal has grown old
Of the chamberade. In view of gray hair
I propose to you, Sir…
Citizen sir
For… forms.
FLEUT, insistently:
Overfeeding.
Oversleep.
If we were sated — we wouldn’t have gone,
If we slept to death — we wouldn’t have passed,
Not a kilometer, not the sixth:
Overstay.
What they do, not crouching:
A rehash.
To change seats!
Do not spare the place where to sit!
Change it all!
Do not spare the breathed-upon walls!
Fallen starts — and do not spare these!
To dead ones — peace.
Into the world the entrance
By this very alley —
Bit to left.
Fifty sons do I have!
Like one.
Has rusted my carbine.
Fully — lie down.
Them — by dikes!
Without the program
To India — from barn?!
Would they take
A moat!
Did not find the trodden paths
In Moscow!
To hell with the
Story of three-hundred-year-old Linds!
We go to conquer India!
Straight ahead!
My home has not been fully built!
We build — peace!
I have not finished eating cheese!
You will not spit further than the nose!
FLEUT:
Spit further!
Into the blue! Into June!
Into the new! And for that — the full moon!
To step like a hotshot —
Appear in the buff!
That the belt came together —
On empty stomach appear!
Regiment be well!
The gritting of fangs!
Enough croup for us!
Palpitation of gun.
Grease from burning lard!
Be well the red…
March, rats!
We are disgusted by home mince!
Freshness, which for three hundred years —
Not fresh now! March with step!
Yell who did not go sour!
We grew disgusted with milky rice!
Hotter in knapsacks!
Three billion Indian rats
For great-ocean-ones await,
The feverish swarms
Und rank the rat storm!
Musky battles with cats
On the Ganges’ shores wait.
Not to puffs and not to sausage
Of Hammeln, Vienna, Prague!
We — to universe! World — on us!
Who did not smell through — dare!
Here they are, puffs!
Move, line up!
Here they are, lard!
Squint, smile!
Not a speck hiding —
Step, step past the townhouse!
Swagger! Puff up! Rise up! Expand!
Past the market, the pick past.
With thought — with news — with shot — with passion —
Past the house of the burgomaster.
And on the balcony…
Ah! From the balcony…
Like the burn…
Like the bow…
Like the cheek —
Tss — Shiraz…
It seems — fleutist
Raised a rose?
(Matter of politeness!)
Do not repose!
Went to rejoice, —
Do not look back!
Here he, with forehead into vastness —
The city’s outermost house.
***
Hori-zon!
Edge of edges, border of borders!
‘We fall behind’ —
This to you, horizon, is rhyme!
Outrunner
Fleet, of a thousand miles,
Once overtaking us
Forever — further than forehead, further than eyes:
Dreamer!
Melting all reality —
As a wax —
Further than our screams and melancholy!
Measurer of yearning!
With blue song (eight in mind),
As in asp of a school desk,
Giving measure and speed to angst:
Eye coverage!
In vain in Siberian knights
Goes the tale
Of the suckers of eyes.
Not in vain
This burning woman’s extravagance
Hordes and flocks —
On the swallower of mysteries.
The edge!
Eye-tearer, eye-thrower, eye-breaker!
Oh, the blue —
Horizon, blue is your eye!
Came out in breeze,
Ask the combating cranes,
Into kaoliang —
Ask the columnar prisoners!
He! — After him?
It is him! — And what for? — He…
My soul!
Not allowed here.
Drive me beyond
The horizon!
* * *
Slept or walked?
Calm or squall?
Gray-haired or blond?
Is it our world?
Distance not such!
Fir trees not such!
Mountains not such!
Buzzing not such!
Swam or raced?
Hammeln? Square.
Hammeln? Slept through.
Hammeln? Read
In fairy tale.
Not a new tale:
More left than Hannover.
Forest not such!
Bush not such!
Thrush not such!
Whisper not such!
Young like Achilles!
Hammeln? Visited!
Hammeln? Got cold!
Hammeln? Learned
In book, meanwhile in tambour
Aunts…
From me, like from Hamburg,
Enough!
Sigh not such!
Move not such!
Laughter not such!
World not such!
Blue, and not white!
Hammeln? A blank!
Hammeln? Got sight:
Dish, and I ate
With beer, with one pleasant
Society: Hammelbraten.
Glorious bite!
Hammeln? Give time!
Jump! Hammeln?
Hammeln? A brain
Edema.
I demand attention:
Hammeln simply had not been:
Dust.
Shoal.
Mole.
Null.
Our salt — dust from bullets!
Our story — torn bag!
Worse the plague —
We are salt of the earth!
Our blood — is resin!
Once blood — wash with blood!
May the minds repine —
We are blood of the land!
Our fraction — same trill!
Hey slave! To left aim!
Falling under ground —
Still its bloom.
I tell you: not the same hills!
Not Germany!
Much more far!
Not Germany!
And not Gaul!
Besotted!
Wave and know!
Not Germany!
And not Vlachia!
Quieter than quiet!
Longer than long!
If not Scythia,
Then…
India!
FLEUT:
Hindustan!
Edge of edges, land of lands.
The blue vat —
Hindustan, it’s your night.
Here for there
Having changed, and give to dames,
Gamma of gammas,
Into temple ascending.
Rice, corn,
Washing the maiden
From pit-cher?
This is your silence, Hindustan.
Like the shooter
After thickets and alarms
Into emptiness?
Into your silence, Hindustan —
A man…
* * *
Dome of a pagoda?
So it is blue!
Rice fields!
Palm wine!
From original troubles,
From original dreams
Child’s and rat’s ravings
With the sugar cane.
What’s the age of the world?
What’s the moment of the world?
In winds blooms pepper!
In winds sounds sugar!
Shagreen — not virgin lands!
In blue the bloom
Of plum. Fourth day
And of year, none.
Resin.
Hum.
Ox.
Mule.
Not canvas — the slaughter
Of paints. Pre-brewed clay.
Creative scribble
Of genius. Trying strength
Of demon.
Hammer on stone
First time. To the world
Fourth hour and day none.
Maidens
Of Ganges!
Tree
Mango!
Indigo! First blossom!
Indigo! First scream
Of a beast. Stare, poet:
To world is fourth moment!
I anticipate hour: crushed
Time, like a rough
Draft… Last moment’s stroke —
And not a moment
To the world…
OLD RAT:
It itches thus!
That — may be — exactly — sight
Of this place is known to me.
That this pagoda on the bin
Waves…
Turban! Brahmin!
OLD RAT:
What is India, where the barn
On the barn…
Bombay! Bazaar!
Dervish with a cobra!
OLD RAT:
And barn
On the barn.
Palace of Raji!
OLD RAT:
Thus the tropics in rye fields!
White on black, on storehouses.
Palm? Mill. Bamboo of Shlagbaum.
Condor? Kite. Corn? Peas.
We from Hammeln in four miles, —
Handful, and not regiment!
FLEUT:
Idle talk!
Tell the self-seeker, that he’ll stop
Talking! Crooked and slantwise
Is he, who in trunk sees the nose
His own and in elephant — bin.
Crooked and crippled.
(Harder! Harder! Scatter! Beneath
Are chromatic gammas of fibs!)
Liar and coward
Who in future hump sees,
Dead and rotten
He, who, walking, sees his
Back, and in the expanses — port.
Did invert!
Did distort!
Believe Music: it will outwit
Through the granite.
For the Music — dynamite
Younger…
And in a united front:
Horizon!
Lake!
Ruby!
With a rose
Stroke
You see?
Be himself!
Ibis!
Flamingo!
OLD RAT:
Bluer — drowns!
Mirror is tropic!
Meekness —
In sapphires!
Lotus!
Papyrus!
In water —
Like in bedroom.
To the lake —
Palms
Adulation.
We’ll wash away!
We will drink
Lotus juice: rest.
FLEUT:
Watering hole!
To ones afar — brew and rest.
They sleep and drink.
OLD RAT:
I tell you that this — pond
Of Hammeln: three hundred years since it did rot!
FLEUT:
Cro-co-dile!
Will come true!
Is coming near!
OLD RAT:
Puddle!
Manure!
Flatters with silk!
OLD RAT:
Tadpoles!
To the headless and ringleader:
Tadpoles, I say!
FLEUT:
To the glossary —
Meanings to poor innkeeper,
Dead of hands —
Who will believe when there’s sound:
Tsar and priest.
OLD RAT:
I tell you that this is a liar,
Liar, agent!
FLEUT:
Lies not music — the instrument!
OLD RAT:
Trug und Schand!
FLEUT:
Lies not music — the musician!
Individual!
OLD RAT:
I tell you that this is swamp,
Dike!
FLEUT:
So let it be!
Better music than arsenic.
OLD RAT:
Death!
FLEUT:
What in this?
Better lake than bin,
Floated away, how did he rot?
Algae? Fully! Coral! Beryl!
Emerald!
Not in puddle, but in the sound — they die!
What body? Shade of shade!
Century of body — foam shakes!
Nir-vana, here he is, juice!
Trunk of palm? Rod of the flag.
In world of arches, rainbows, arcs
Sound will be the flagstaff.
What? — hands! Two’s not enough.
Sound — with rod, flag — spirit.
Thus: I hear! (‘I see’ — dream!)
Meaning is higher — lower the tone,
Low-est. Body will uplift,
And — quiet: note of notes.
Air is stuffy, fresh is water.
Each of us is a Raja somewhere.
(In death…)
With the world make adjacent the eyes…
We are Rajas of this India!
* * *
Raja on Raja!
But of these rats already —
No one and nowhere:
Circles on water.
* * *
IN CITY HALL
* * *
(Chapter Five)
Secret, civilian —
Hello, ratsherrs!
Walls of old Hammeln
Have been spared
Of gratuitous residents.
Holiday of cauldrons,
Procession of hurdles —
Rats are drowned!
Caesar he wouldn’t have been —
Chef he would have been…
Beat in the frying pans!
Beat in the frying pans!
With days freely
Be joyful, ratsherrs!
Clean are the storehouses
Of predators
Heads — of ideas.
Beat the frying pan!
With the lighting
Celebrate, ratsherrs,
Sugar with chicory —
Marvel-Victoria
Without fists, without bullets.
Holiday of pans.
Ratsherrs survived:
Rats are stacked.
Sweet or salty —
There’s nothing to do
To me — promised,
Performed — to you.
Trembling.
Whispering.
Mouths — to the side,
Herrs — in the side.
Cheeks — poppy,
Brows — hedgehog:
That is — how?
That is — who?
(Shelf with pugs
In shop made of mud!)
What is — properly?
What is — exactly?
Clearly and precisely, without someone somewhere:
In property maiden named Greta.
Greta? There is no Greta among us:
We live in German lands.
There are so many Gretas in city Hammeln
As there is, for example, of Hanses.
Hans or Greta. Not Greta — Hans.
In river after the boulders —
In Hammeln for Gretas. Contradance:
Thus Greta since not Hans.
Will come to you
Betrothed!
With broods!
With dozens!
Not skew-handed and not blind —
Greta for yourself you will find!
Dimple — all in one style!
Pimple and pimple in the hole.
Smallpox in smallpox,
Rumor in rumor.
Whose the proper
Greta?
You joke!
Whose then, did you think, whistled
Greta — like not burgomaster?
Hot water.
Feet stoomping.
Mouths in lope,
Herrs — lie down,
Mouths — in hic,
Herrs — in sneeze.
And the funnyman!
And the groom!
Oinked a hundred boars:
Swayed with trousers.
He made laugh! Consoled!
With bald patches blazed!
In this apron
Maiden?
So-and-so.
With box of honors
Maiden?
In precision.
Mouths — to snort,
Herrs — to vert.
Such a dandy!
Such a dapper man!
Eyes — to take,
Cheeks — to gloss.
What a goose!
What a Hans!
With silver carcass —
The maiden?
Sowed!
Full granary
For the maiden?
Then harvest!
Pack of notes!
Tuft on pants!
Well — the spouse!
Well — son-in-law!
He is quick!
He is faster!
Neighs without feeling
Burgomaster.
Hastily, hurriedly
Wedding?
Boars!
‘Though you be a demon, a yid,
The wone who will free
The city — though blind, though crazy! —
In house of the burgomaster
As son-in-law he will enter,
In column of persons
In the city — first one’…
Stop!
Not in round dance, the fife —
In mind! Step by step! Andante!
Only without demon and about the kike,
What about the musician is stated?
When is finished the rite —
We ask for mercy, brother!
Musician in wedding is glad —
Only not in the role of son-in-law.
For the musician! For hook of notes!
Sound — the flute’s hole!
Where is it seen, that at once
With the musician — in the pickaxe?
For the musician! For nervous lump —
Daughter! Blacksmith is dearer yet!
What would she do with a pack
Of notes on the wedding bed?
For the musician! For naked bean!
Maybe — in regions unknown —
Only did not hear Hammeln
That the musicians married!
What? There’s music? Twitters bird!
Joke! Manages the child!
What is the music? In ears, noise.
Entertainment of weddings.
Boredom and shouts of bravo.
Inconsequential chatter of strings.
What is music? Not a capon,
And to capon — seasoning.
Is for-gotten: I was young —
I myself bent deftly.
Hodgepodge from the bull’s veins —
Trees and dexterity.
The fooling steam.
No! The musicians we feed
So that, the boiled food
More deftly would for us seep.
Little by little — after the singer —
So that would be the female gender…
Two-three Aryans before shut-eye…
Only not for a long time.
What is music? From first notes:
‘What for you to end, brothers?’
And I as such — backwards:
Only do not be louder,
More bass!
Having early awakened,
For mouths, all eight…
Of all rights command.
Ghetto: you did not hear yourself!
Music? Vulture
With bands.
Thin section.
Vomit to throat,
Thus… overflow…
After sun — brownie…
Out of emptiness — in the empty…
Not aware, prefect:
Music is the affect.
Affectation of such feelings,
Of which there is none.
Say, lout — who is not feeling.
How I’m not trying —
Something, besides gamma —
Without consequence.
Fact is fact:
Music is the entr’acte.
Needlework of idle fools.
What to me — thus steadfastly:
More than any overtures
Inside me — alinement
Before these.
Fund is fund.
Music is the affront —
To common sense. Greatest nonsense,
With the openwork the stockings.
BURGOMATSTER:
What has been stated — nonsense.
There is truth. I will say this to you.
We thought — count
With bands? Thin section!
Vomit to throat?
Thus… overflow —
Music? Typhus —
Music! Explosion!
On steppe the Scythian!
Interruption of veins!
For the bunt — being naked —
Enough! From the fire in the frying pan!
Scarier than noise in ears
Are, squinting eyes, the dreams.
Music is the banks’ ruin,
Emancipation of the furies.
Father Piy is invited
To the Christmas of the suburbs.
Quatuor of four elements,
Emancipation of the beasts.
The slave’s essence underground —
Music is a riot.
Riot of archangel. Riot of beasts.
Riot of galloon in the foremost.
Not a bride: with lock — veil!
Witch behind pianoforte!
Better spare the card sharper,
Than musician! Sandman in armchair?
The demons on the Duma’s
Square — and demons in the home!
Seventh cord of woman’s essence —
Music — is — the devil.
The pop-eyed scholars
In the skein — fist of Pottsdam. And
What is music? Ca ira!
Rattshers, this for you is gamma!
In the plumage of birds of paradise
Demons: stirb and todte!
What is music? Fear mysterious
Of the secret rate of Goethe —
Before Bethoven.
Up — brows,
Paint in nose.
Perch the mouths,
Itch the Herrs.
Mouth — in crack.
Herrs — in breath.
Warrior with us!
God with us.
Only, talent unrecognized,
Rattsher from Romanticism,
Roses of the newly born
And having Philomel been called:
‘Music in small doses —
It is not so serious.’
Burgo-then-master, majestic and icy:
In you speaks the artist.
RATTSHERS FROM ROMANTICISM:
Tempi passati!
BURGOMASTER:
Rattshers, sit!
Joke — after the drink.
Parliamentarians, think!
Maybe — Lord is unfathomable —
For the musician — our
Flesh?
* * *
In the city — one family
Hammeln! Thus, in the family
Of Hammeln — pronoun ‘I’
Not: all together: not one.
With exception of weighty boons
I — means everyone.
Glorious word, and in it is gain!
Such! Thus with the fur coat clings!
To the author of these modest lines
Gild! Kill at least!
Only one in it — but my!
Understood is the letter: I.
Irresistible! Like diamond
Alive in the black fire.
Unrepeatable! What is az?
What cannot be a pair.
In the language of irretrievable race
As means: once.
(Azra…)
In city Hammeln just little ones…
However, biting the tongues.
Scary word! Scarier thunder at night,
Guests after the goose: I!
(In the devouring crowd
I means — everyone).
How with neighbors! How with men!
Not my business — OK!
To the author, to clairvoyant of lies,
From the very luminous — eye,
I ask to understand — in him only one —
Is accessible letter ‘I.’
I am loaded to the end
Of apple trees: you won’t take!
In the Hammeln instead of name I —
We — then not imaginary,
Not stump, not quiet, not dumbness and deafness —
Into arshin — from the letter!
(Right of giants!)
For the musician!
This is spice!
This is spice!
Time — has gone!
Place — space!
After kidder!
After beggar!
Without future!
After the piper!
In home — vile work.
Debt — in store.
The black goose!
The white wolf!
From roof — shower,
In bedroom — beach.
Who’s your husband?
Mu — si — cian.
Hands — instead of pay,
Splash — instead of meat.
After the loafer!
After the star grip!
In dreams and in plans
Kutai the firstborn.
After the giant!
After the lilliputian!
After the dropout!
After the wizard!
Claim eternal!
All in pawnshop!
Squealing of rats and
Quintus and quarter.
Luggage — kids.
Geld is Sand.
Who’s your son-in-law?
Mu — si — cian.
Pipe! For this is needed breath
Hefty — you pipe all day!
Not difficult in young
Armor, and why with shortness of breath?
You don’t come in handy to clean
Outhouses. In the blind ones, with tin can?
And the unpaid debtors —
All of them are music players!
Rattshers fill up
With white anger:
In whole town
The first maiden?
To the first — bravo!
To oncoming — new!
For the rattender!
For the rat-catcher!
Without sugar?
For the prisoner!
Trench common.
In edge, coffin.
No garlands.
No words.
Died — sweat.
Unbekannt.
Who was this?
Mu — si — cian.
Confused — in confusion —
Commonly in olives, eyes —
Lips, with bow usually,
Rattshers from Romantics:
‘In city Hammeln there are no treasures eternal,
Although there are many treasures earthy.
Genius with Hammeln — is such marriage
As between a nightingale and cabbage.
To the nightingale passion is ascribed
For rose. The song having altered,
Over nightingale my tears I pour
And the nightingale — is wedded!
Genius with Hammeln — where’s the tact?
Taste? — Not in kinship! Not in tone!
Unintelligible is the fact,
That the nightingale is in the law?
Peroxide — sleeping bag — pork…
Wedding — this? To sit, to lie, on board,
And to hear the celestial talk,
The friends, and the man of trade!
I would like to fit in burgomaster’s shoes
Thus I — suburb!
But to the celestial — what honor is
To call burgomaster — son in law?
Significant — thus fair,
High-hearted — thus noble.
He has been the son of the peaceholder,
To become the burgomaster’s son-in-law?
Kitchen?
Doll?
Ring?
Only that?
What is Hymen for the lyricists,
Will tell you your child.
Settled down the nightingales —
Inadmissible case study!
Thus the celestial in realm of bodies —
Not a shred on a hole
For you, right was the divide
Of boons at the beginning of the world:
For us — only visible, to you all
Others (where the illnesses are innumerable!)
Like divinity, butcher do not be,
Like we climb into divinity.
To you — to rule the world, to us — to birth!
Here are twins, there there are three.
But to be a happy musician —
Simply indecently!
Thus provide the sweet bite
To the ordinary everyman!
Your ambrosia is sweeter than lips
Of the woman, cleaner than nectar.
Hierophants in dirt of the wheels,
Gods in fumes of brothels —
Cry and keep watch, that we would not sleep
Die — that we would be fruitful!
And burgomaster’s daughter —
Bottom plan — changed for another.
In other words, in such deeds the layman
And I await the opinion
Of coming.’
Flushed all the advice,
Strained the forehead.
In Hammeln there are no own thoughts,
Only alone others.
It’s not tricky: They live on the land,
Do not soar into clouds.
And can’t tell the others, that pood —
Only one, and of the authors.
Whisper the walls among:
‘What to give to him in exchange?’
Something needed!
Fishing rod! Dozen
Of cheap socks!
Shoe for clock!
Something on the wall! And
With oil paint
Caesar on stallion!
It’s not a matter of cost!
The note folder!
Cane! On the shoulder
Something from clothes?
Brush for shaving!
Thus for you — a bit!
Artificially! Daily!
Not in courtyard! In the forest!
The main ones — from the soul!
The very drop!
Spot! Tiny one!
As upon the face the frock,
I would have offered — the iron:
Firm and cheap!
Main — out of nowhere
To take: for similar bars
Gesture — the best gift.
Other — expensive.
Cheap — excellent!
Without fateful costs,
In specificity — certificate.
Money — bad taste!
Privateers, oysters —
Nephritis, not diabetes.
Genius with dreams is sated.
The good opinion —
There is she, to genius,
Payment: the praise of purse.
The mortal would take the more precious.
It came to be — classific leaf.
RATTSHER FROM ROMANTICISM:
Eureka! In hands beat!
Though he is called — fleutist,
It means — a case for fleut!
Mouths — in splash,
Herrs — in clap.
What a brain!
What a forehead!
Geben-frisst,
Leb’heisst spar…
Once flutist —
Thus the cover.
Folded! Managed!
Leather! Suede!
For the musical souls
Plush is pleasant so.
Plush thus became!
Rattshers,
Food is cooling. Though tenderness is aim,
Flander is also tender.
The main one — intent!
In expense not sticking his head,
That from psyche — to psyche —
Thus from papier-mache!
If only the littlest in the psyche
Was the gain — everyone would have it.
And in translation papier-mache
Is the chewed paper.
Though not a cow, but I will chew!
Gods — and the mouth we’ll smear!
Thus is the critic to nightingale:
With chewing gum, which is of paper.
To clean one! Without impurities!
Received! Received!
Cotton! Of rice!
Bravo! Signed!
BURGOMASTER:
Not slipped through — to the son-in-law!
But, as the man he does hallow,
And in musician —
Rattshers, stand!
To the woman, not wasting coins,
Is the town hall’s ordinance:
Hammeln — not in kingdom of souls.
The musician — not a husband,
The musician — not son-in-law.
In the named girl
To reject. (In kingdom of costs!)
And to offer instead
Nothing from the charms’ kingdom:
For the instrument — a case.
Chewy-paper.
Because not important —
What? — (‘Substance — just sign.’
Goethe) — it’s important — as such.
Quiet like down.
Quiet like lion.
Lips in laughter.
Brows in anger.
Higher than stars,
Than words higher,
In the whole mouth —
The rat-catcher.
‘Once a musician — thus spender.
Does not keep the pipes the piper.
Will crack — will whistle,
Case hater
He — and case wheel.
Once a musician — so nude.
Clean. For what more pretty —
Shield? They hide the abscesses!
Who from everything and all?
They tear the cases in the world!
Not good — thus kick!
That the essence would beam.
Not in ears, but in hearing
To them will trumpet in mass
In the day, when will cast off the spirit
The body: the case last.
In the day when ice will stand.
In the soul — without trumpet.
Not in the instrument — in us
Sound. Break the pipes!
More sharp-sighted than all — without eyes
Is the seeing. The most loud
And grateful hall —
Chest. No one is small.
Not to the nightingale to keep
Throat. (For night three drops!)
What into stove from the case —
Or put on the nose…
Rattshers! Bribe and debt —
Burgomaster’s daughter. I wait.’
‘Shoo-shoo-shoo’ — they whispered…
‘For some ten pieces
Pitiful — blessings to rats — mice!
Not to see the ears of yours.’
Greta, Greta, in the net fell!
Better that your ears beheld,
Not the soul.
Rustle, reeds!
That your soul we cannot see.
* * *
CHILDREN’S HEAVEN
(Chapter Sixth and last)
Rose is red, jelly is naked,
And the alarm clock — is angry.
To school! To school! To school! To school!
Nord-Ost — in spine! Nord-West — to floors!
Not having penetrated the eyes —
To class! To class! To class!
Warmer than coats, than melons sweeter —
And alarm clock: ringing!
Tear-tear the eyes!
Must not sleep! Mustn’t! Mustn’t!
Gather-take the brains!
Don’t see! Don’t see! Don’t see darkness!
With feet into vat!
Under the faucet! Under the faucet!
Not romance and no drama — highly boring!
Blush of sleep is washed under faucet!
Goths and Huns are walking.
But, cleverly talking,
From the Goths and the Huns — world was small!
What has remained? A good score.
Score and hum.
Galls and Huns.
(Confused — the flight).
Galls and Goths.
Goth and Gall.
It’s too small —
Goths and Huns —
Bread and butter.
Huns — on horse, the legs bent.
In pound twenty four feet.
Plus and minus make — plus.
Caesar — is German.
Now I’ll wake up.
B and A —
In slits of eye.
Hundred wasps —
In nostrils, nose.
For hundred years, for fashions hundred —
My plant — plant — plant.
Will fall oak, will fall throne —
Wound up — conducted — conducted.
Hundreds of fashions, hundreds of years —
And what will be further —
He will say, he will say,
Who the alarm clock — awakes.
What is hour? What is year?
Will go deaf the crater!
He will say, he will say,
Who the alarm clock will bang.
Hour is lost, day has burned,
And the alarm clock — is whole.
There were valleys —
Grew the mountains.
To school now,
To office tomorrow.
Where are you, wasps?
Where are you, wonks?
To school today,
Tomorrow to grave…
More tiresome than the moths.
Scho-lars!
What? This? The new sound!
Books from the hands are flying
Past — and straight into stove.
From the shoulder want the arms,
Tears from the eyes want,
Into basin lard has fallen,
Soap has fallen into soup —
In the school Morgensupp!
Sounds! Sounds! Like from watering pot!
Like from eyes! Like from cloud!
This is flute, this is flute
This is flute in a flood!
Jumps! Jumps! Like from stall!
Stomping-stomping, stomping strand
Flute, pour to us! Flute, sing to us!
Goatlings, calves, foals.
Freedwoman.
Cavalry.
Schoolboys.
Schoolgirls.
Like from limbs rain,
Like rubble from mountain —
From all the cellars
The peas of kids.
Schoolboy? Nonsense. Ballerina? Got by.
The rain’s, rain’s drum!
Globe? Shot down. Knapsack? Taken down.
Waterfall of macadam!
Splashes! Splashes! Like from gang!
Atlas, grow old! Stylus, await!
In grove — jays, in grove — bunnies,
In grove — blackbirds white!
Shouts! Shouts! Thus, by example,
Dissolving throats and mouths,
With the missionary the savages
Upon the existence seize.
Child-ren!
The golden evening’s moths…
Sa-va-ges!
The squeakers of loud-voiced ponds…
Out of holes!
Moth — not marmot, not beaver.
Out of schools!
Still the primrose does not flower.
I have — in friendship not in service!
Dolls for the girls, guns for the boys,
The deep catching and rowing fast —
Needles for the girls, bowling for the boys,
Armor and ap-parel,
And — waffles — for all.
To birds — grove, to fish — lake,
On all persons, on every age!
To youngest — sweet things, to old ones — spices, —
For all the secrets, for all the oddities.
Shine — hurts the eyes:
Eden and Sesame.
Under the roof of the parents
Who tried the blessed sherbet?
Home — tight pound
For wives and for lions.
If I have — said, as from the palm! —
For the girls deer, for the boys stallions,
Fruits of Solomon and roses of Saadi,
For the boys war, for the girls weddings,
In singsong the whole world
And tenderness for all.
Birds in a cage! Fish in a puddle!
Let us destroy the marks all!
To fishes — lake, to birds — summer —
Have been destroyed all the items!
The Christ-mas table
In the school most ancient.
They say, he’s in the green one!
Where is he? I walk with ringing.
In heat he lulled me.
Where is he? I go with sound.
I’m after the veil reddest.
I’m after sister eldest.
They say that far is heaven.
I did not learn the lesson.
I’m fearful in secret.
I’m — after furthest. I’m — after utmost.
I — so that overtake the childhood.
Not to remain. Not to fall behind.
After treasure desperate.
I — for fame. I — for herd.
All the same — can’t go home!
I’m — for the sea! I’m — wedding.
Because they beat in school.
Because walk they all.
I wanted in hay to spend the night.
I’m — for all. I’m — for Frantz.
I wanted to fight the lions.
The legs themselves. I don’t know.
Because the father beats.
Because goes everything.
Beaters — and these in tonsils!
Rattles for the most little ones!
Tales — will move to laughter the priest!
And romances for the big ones.
For all needs! For all tastes!
For the boys — bullets, for the girls — beads.
For all thirsts! For all suits!
For boys — games, for girls — lusts.
Without matchmakers, without hindrance.
And — for all — letters.
They say, he winds up,
Drowns (people, roll out!)
He’ll wind up, then he’ll kill!
If he can’t, then he will
Not be worse! In harmony — not villain!
Into hell — without the preaching!
It is good, that altogether,
Bunches. And to say in honor…
(Who goes from water, thus higher —
Where is he?) Nothing I hear:
Not gopp-gopp and not doo-doo, —
All are going, I’m going too.
I have — all, all, besides rent!
For the boys flints, for the girls bands,
Look-out signs and secret numbers,
For the boys — thoughts, for the girls — sounds,
Kinship — with them.
And for all — rhyme.
Wind in floors!
Past the school!
With whole circus —
Past the picker.
Who not once is fondled —
Without awakening is abandoned.
Farewell, classy!
Farewell, pastor!
We won’t write!
Infants!
I have — retell for all!
For the girls — heaviness, for the boys — joy,
Tender — will stop loving, smart — will overcome.
For the boys — sweetness, for the girls — woe.
Bottom — of earthly passion…
And heaven for one.
Here — fetters,
Here — numbers…
Parting…
Parting…
Heaven — of essence,
Heaven — of sense,
Heaven — of hearing,
Heaven — of noise.
Like a cloud of feathers,
‘Greta is burgomaster’ — the whisper!
Line up, brides frolicsome
Sisters in wedding train.
Of greasy ballrooms forgetting —
Take the little ones by the hand.
Pea and the school house!
Take the tiny ones in your arms.
The stork-like men…
Do not repent!
As if news is good…
Do not look behind!
Here’s it, flock into expanse,
The city’s very edge.
Overgrow,
Trace of our legs. They’ll ask — in Cathay.
Liar’s play,
Drown out voices and steps.
You, bushes,
Do not keep rags of clothes,
Wind, you
Don’t give voices and steps.
Without trace!
They say that today is Wednesday:
Day of labor.
In that land it’s always Sunday.
To live — to age,
Top age and to turn gray.
To live — to foe!
What is eternally on the shore!
In my home — not prisons, not massacres —
One blue! One icy!
Under unsteady ripples, under unsteady roofing
For girls — pearls, for boys — catching
Of them… With the Greek nut!
And for everyone — bath.
Sleep-fall asleep, sleep-disappear,
Pearl — is a marvelous illness.
Brushwood — gray. Want — scarlet?
To the brushwood — a coral.
In my kingdom — not mumps, not measles,
No higher matters, no average histories,
No racial strife, no Goose execution,
No children’s illness, no fear in children:
Blue. Summer’s florid.
And — time — for all.
Quiet, quiet, children! Given away to
The school quiet, underwater.
Pour, pour, cheek roses
Into water eternal, flowing.
Someone: chalk! Someone: mud!
Someone: wetted the feet!
Someone: shaft! Someone: hum!
Someone: from lake did quaff!
And water is up to fingers
For the divers and the swimmers…
Pearls are pouring in towards.
And up to ankle is the water…
Up to knees it strives.
Chry-so-lite!
The red mosses, niches of azure…
(And legs lower, and sky higher…)
Mirror lodges, crystal halls…
And something nearer, and something farther…
Beware! Bogged down to the knees!
Chrysoprase!
And water up to the shoulder
To mice in plaid and workaday.
Higher, higher, upturned nose!
And water up to the throat, —
Than the sheets more sweet —
Cry-stals…
In my kingdom (dolce most tender)…
More of the eye, less of an era…
Swamp seagull? Baby hat?
And legs are heavier, and lighter is the heart…
Remember, friends and kinsmen!
Comes up to the chin,
Has built to good palaces
Beggar — to daughter of burgomaster?
Eternal dreams, traceless thickets…
And heart is quitter, and flute is sweeter…
Do not think, but follow, do not think, but hear…
And heart is deafer, and flute is sweeter…
Mother, don’t call to dinner!
Bub-bles.
Цветаева Марина Ивановна
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