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Letter to a Woman

You remember,
You remember everything, of course,
The way I stood,
Next to the wall,
While you paced anxiously around the room
And spat harsh words in my face.
 
You said:
It's time for us to separate,
That you are exhausted
From my foolhardy way of life,
That you must take up serious endeavors,
While my purpose -
Is to sink, deeper into my foolishness.
 
My beloved!
You did not love me.
You did not know, that in a horde of people,
I felt like a jaded steed,
Spurred on boldly by an intrepid horseman.
 
You did not know,
That I was lost in the haze, and
In the mayhem of everyday life
And I was tormented, I could not understand -
Where we are carried by fate.
 
Standing face-to-face
One's countenance is indiscernible.
What is truly important is seen only from afar.
And when the ocean boils,
Woeful is the state of the ships that sail in it.
 
The earth - is a ship!
But someone, suddenly,
In the quest for a new life, for new glory
Directed that ship into the heart of a tempest
With a dignified air.
 
But on the immense deck
Who didn't fall, vomit, or curse?
There are only a few, those with an experienced soul,
Who remained strong in the face of the squall.
 
Then I too,
In the midst of the chaos,
But knowing well my purpose,
Descended into the ship's hold,
So that I wouldn't have to look on while people vomited.
And that hold was -
A Russian tavern.
And leaning over my glass,
So that I wouldn't suffer over anyone,
I tried to ruin myself
With drink.
 
My beloved!
I tortured you,
You had such anguish
In your weary eyes:
That, for show, in front of you, I tried
To spend myself completely in our quarrels.
 
But you did not know,
That I was lost in the haze, and
In the mayhem of everyday life
And I was tormented,
I could not understand -
Where we are carried by fate...
 
Now the years have gone by,
I am older.
And I think and feel differently.
And over wine at a holiday feast, I now exclaim:
Praise and glory to the helmsman!
 
Today, I
Am under the spell of tender feelings.
I recalled your doleful weariness.
And now
I hurry to tell you,
About who I was
And who I have become!
 
My beloved!
I am happy to declare:
I avoided falling into the depths.
Now on the side of the Soviets,
I have become their most ardent ally.
 
I am a different person,
Than I was back then.
Now I would not torment you,
Like I did in those days.
For the sake of the flag of liberty
And sacred work
I am ready to travel even to La Mancha.
 
Forgive me...
I know: you have also changed -
You live
With a serious, thoughtful husband

Farewell

Versions:
Farewell, my friend, farewell.
My dear one, you are in my heart.
This parting was meant to be.
It promises a welcoming to come.
 
Farewell, my friend, without a hand or even a word.
Do not be melancholy or of grim countenance -
In this lifetime, dying is nothing new -
But living, of course, is not a novelty.
 

Sećam se, ljubavi

Sećam se, ljubavi, sećam se
Sjaja tvoje kose.
Nije bilo lako niti sam bio srećan,
Navikavajući se na odsustvo tvoje.
 
Sećam se jesenjih noći,
I suškanja brezinih senki.
Ti su dani brzo prošli,
Mesec nam je svetleo duže.
 
Sećam se, ti si mi govorila :
,,Proći će plave godine
I ti ćeš me zaboraviti, dragi moj,
Sa drugom ženom zauvek.''
 
Danas je lipa cvetala
Podsetila me je kako da osećam ponovo
Kako bih nežno ja stavio
Cveće u tvoju kovrdžavu kosu.
 
I moje srce nije spremno da se zaledi
I tužno voleći drugu ženu,
Kao da je to moja omiljena priča,
Sa drugom ženom, sećam se tebe.
 

There's Only One Thing Left that Amuses Me

There's only one thing left that amuses me,
putting my fingers in my mouth and whistling.
My chance for fame is gone
after the mess between me and that fighter.
 
Oh! The loss was funny!
Just one of many losses.
I'm sorry I believed in God.
And it's sad for me that I don't believe now.
 
They gave him the gold off in the distance!
Everything of this world can burn and die.
And I'm bitter and a jerk about
the fact that his glory burns brighter than mine.
 
A poet's gift is to insult you and you're flattered,
with the kiss of death on it.
Like a red rose and a poisoned toad
I wanted to be King of the Earth.
 
But these things don't match, and won't come true.
These thoughts are through rose colored glasses.
But since devils made a home in my soul,
that means that angels once lived there.
 
So for all this happy crap,
I'll pass on to the other side.
But, as a last request
I ask those who will be there for me
 
that for all my grave sins,
for not believing in God,
put me in a Russian shirt
and let me die under the statues.
 

Goodbye, my friend

Versions: #2
Goodbye, my friend, goodbye, my dear,
You'll stay forever in my heart.
Impending parting is too near
But we won't be too long apart.
 
Without a word, goodbye, my friend,
Don't grieve for me, be calm and meek.
'Death' in an old thing in the end,
'To live' is hardly newer it.
 

The wind is whistling under a fence so steep

***
The wind is whistling under a fence so steep,
Hiding in the grass.
And I know a drunkard and a thief
I will die – alas!
O’er the hills of red the day has gone
Calling to the field.
In this world I know I’m not alone,
Hanging out here.
Russian ploughlands stretch before my eye –
Here it’s grass, there – snow.
And no matter really who am I –
Our cross’s the same, you know.
I believe just like in holy saints
In my secret hour
He will come – bedraggled, hedge-born tramp,
Saviour – in power.
Oh, but lost in bluish river smoke,
Flows of mystery,
Grinning drunk, I might just pass Him by,
Lose for eternity.
And no tear will sparkle in my eye
Shooing away the dream.
But the dove of joy away will fly,
In the darkness sink.
Once again, ferociously advancing,
Grief will sing her song...
Let the wind perform his crazy dancing
On my grave forlorn.
 

Crni čovek

Versions: #2
Prijatelju moj, prijatelju moj,
bolestan sam mnogo, mnogo!
Sam ne znam otkuda dođe ovaj bol.
Valjda što vetar pišti nad pustim poljima,
vetar iznemogo,
il' što ko on šumu u septembru,
Pustoši i mozak - alkohol.
 
Glava moja maše ušima,
ko kril'ma ptica bleda.
Na vratu su joj noge
što gube sve više moć.
Crni čovek
crni, crni.
Crni čovek
na krevet mi seda.
Crni čovek mi ne da -
da zaspim svu noć.
 
Crni čovek
vuče prstom po odvratnoj knjizi
i, mrmljajuć nada mnom
ko nad umrlim monah,
čita mi život
o probisvetu i nekoj kulizi,
zadajuć duši tugu i strah.
Crni čovek,
crni, crni!
 
- Počuj, počuj -
mrmlja mi i veli -
mnogo je u knjizi
misli bez mana.
Taj čovek je
živeo u zemlji
najodvratnijih
hulja i šarlatana.
 
U decembru, u zemlji toj
sneg je đavolski čist,
i mećave počinju
prela, bez jeda.
Bio je taj čovek avanturist
veliki
i prvog reda.
 
Bio je divan,
uz to poeta,
mada s nevelikom
al' ozbiljnom snagom,
i neku ženu
od preko četrest leta,
zvao je laficom
i svojom dragom.
 
'Sreća je - zboraše on -
veština uma i ruku.
Sve nevešte duše
nesrećne su, ko cvetovi.
Ne mari ništa,
što veliku muku
zadaju skrhani
i lažni gestovi.
 
U oluji, u buri,
kraj nedaća svih,
uz teške gubitke
i uz tugu kletu
biti nasmejan, prirodan, tih -
najveća je umetnost na svetu.'
 
- Crni čoveče!
Dosta. Kakva šala!
Ne zabadaj svud nos,
i zato ne presedaj!
Našto mi život
pesnika od skandala!
Drugom ti to, brajko,
čitaj i pripovdaj.
 
Crni čovek me gleda,
uporno pogled mu kulja.
već je i skrama plava
tiho na oči pala -
ko da mi reći želi,
da sam lopuža, hulja,
koja je nemilosrdno
nekoga opljačakala.
 
. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
 
Prijatelju moj, prijatelju moj,
bolestan sam mnogo, mnogo!
Sam ne znam otkuda dođe ovaj bol.
Valjda što vetar pišti nad pustim poljima,
vetar iznemogo,
il' što ko on šumu u septembru,
pustoši i glavu - alkohol.
 
Noć, puna mraza.
Raskršća pokoj gluv.
Sam sam kraj okna,
ne čekam ni gosta, ni druga.
Svu ravan pokrio
krečnjak prtinast, suv,
i drveta, ko konjanici,
u vrtu stoje sred kruga.
 
A negde ptica plače,
noćna, zloslutna, bleda.
Drveni vitezi seju
kopitom topot lak.
I opet onaj crni
u naslonjaču mi seda,
podignuv svoj cilinder
i zabaciv nemarno frak.
 
- Počuj, počuj! -
Krklja mi u lice i klima,
i naginje se
sve više, pogledom prati -
Ne videh nikoga dosad
međ podlacima
da tako nepotrebno
od nesanice pati.
 
Ah, recimo grešim!
Jer mesečina je 'bona'.
Zar još dodati nešto
svetu sna, uz mimiku?
Možda će okruglih bedara
tajno doći 'ona',
da joj čitaš svoju
trulu i tešku liriku.
 
Ah, volim pesnike!
Divan svet i svita.
U njima uvek nalazim
romane znane i bolne -
kako čupavoj studentkinji
dugokosa rita
priča o svetovima,
dršćuć od strasti polne.
 
Ne znam, ne pamtim,
u jednom selu,
možda u Kalugi,
Rjazanu, snu, javi,
živješe mališan
u kući seljačkoj
žutih vlasi
i očiju plavi...
 
I porastao je,
uz to poeta,
mada s nevelikom,
al' ozbiljnom snagom,
i neku ženu
od preko četrest leta,
zvao je laficom
i svojom dragom.
 
- Crni čoveče!
Ti si gost strašna soja.
O tebi kruži davno
ta slavna mrska.
Besan sam, razjaren,
i leti palica moja
pravo u njušku
da mu nos razmrska.
 
. . . . . . . . . .
 
Umro je mesec.
Svitanje u oknu drema.
Ah, ti, noći!
Šta isprede, kao ala?
Pod cilindrom sam.
Nikoga sa mnom nema.
Sam sam...
i parčad ogledala...
 
11. novembra 1925.
 
- Prevod M. M. Pešića -
 

There Is The Silly Elation

There's the silly elation,
The garden the windows look on!
Soundless sunset reflection
Swims in the pool, like a swan.
 
Greetings, golden serenity,
Shadows of trees, black as tar!
Crows on the roof, in sincerity,
Hold vespers in praise of the star.
 
Timidly, over the garden
Where the guelder-rose springs,
A girl in a snow-white garment
A beautiful melody sings.
 
Like a blue gown, the evening
Cold from the meadow sweeps...
Happiness, sweet silly feeling!
Virginal blush of the cheeks!
 

It's Sad To Look At You, My Love...

It's sad to look at you, my love,
And it's so painful to remember!
It seems, the only thing we have
Is tint of willow in September.
 
Somebody's lips have outworn
Your warmth and body trepidation,
As if the rain was drizzling down
The soul, that stiffened in congestion.
 
Well, let it be! I do not dread.
I have some other joyous gala.
There's nothing left for me except
For brown dust and grizzly colour.
 
I've been unable, to my rue,
To save myself, for smiles or any.
The roads that have been walked are few
Mistakes that have been made are many.
 
With funny life and funny split
So it has been and will be ever.
The grove with birch-tree bones in it
Is like a graveyard, well I never!
 
Likewise, we'll  go to our doom
And fade, like callers of the garden.
In winter flowers never bloom,
And so we shouldn't grieve about them.
 

I Have Left My Endeared Home

I have left my endeared home,
Getting out of my Russia of blue.
Little grove by the pond will warm
My old mother's sorrow anew.
 
Like a golden croaker the moon
Lies prostrate on the water tranquil.
Grizzly hair, like apple-tree bloom,
In my father's beard will spill.
 
I will not come back readily, and
Singing blizzard will ring on and on.
Maples guard my blue Russian land,
Standing there, one-legged, all alone.
 
And I know that it's joyous for those
Who've been kissing the rain of the leaves.
For the maple and I, we both
Are alike, in the head, that is.
 

We'll Depart This World For Ever, Surely...

We'll depart this world for ever, surely,
To repose in peace and quite. Oh, my Lord!
Maybe, I shall also have to duly
Pack my things preparing for the road.
 
Oh, my birch-tree woods! Amazing pictures!
Oh, my dear land! My sandy plains!
In the face of crowds of mortal creatures
I'm unable to conceal my pains.
 
I've been filled with love and admiration
For the things embodying the soul.
Peace to aspens, lost in contemplation,
Spreading branches, staring at the shoal.
 
I have thought in silence days and  hours,
I have written songs. And I don't grieve.
I am happy in this gloomy world of ours
To have had a chance to breathe and live.
 
I am happy, I have kissed a woman,
I have slept in grass and  flower-bed,
And I never, like a decent human,
Hit a dog or kitten in the head.
 
The unknown land! No blooming pictures!
No amazing fields of wheat, so fine!
Thus before the crowds of  mortal creatures
I have always shivers down the spine.
 
In that land, I know, there won't be any
Fields of wheat that shine like gold at night
That's the reason why I love those many
Living with me in this country-side.
 

Let's Sit Down Here, My Dearest...

Let's sit down here, my dearest,
Look and see how much I care.
I will listen to the  tempest
Under your submissive stare.
 
All this golden vegetation
And this  fair lock of hair,-
They have come just  like salvation
Of the loafer free of care.
 
Long ago I left my village
With the blooming fields and thicket,
Tempted by the city image
And the life of fame, so wicked.
 
So I buried in oblivion
Orchard,  summer I enjoyed
Where I, to the frogs' singing,
Raised myself to be a poet.
 
Autumn with the golden branches...
Maple, lime-trees, taking pleasure,
Stick their twigs inside, like clutches,
Searching for someone they treasure.
 
They are gone, our dear losses,
In the homely yard the crescent
Marks with beams of light on crosses
That we'll join them in the basement.
 
Going  trough  the troubles wholly
We shall go like this to welkin.
All the winding  roads are only
For the living beings welcome.
 
Come, sit down here, my dearest,  
Let me look into your face.
I will listen to the  tempest
Under your submissive gaze.
 

Life is tricky with enchanting pathos

Life is tricky with enchanting pathos
That is why it is so powerful, and
It composes its pernicious letters
With its outrageous, rugged hand.
 
When I close my eyes I tacitly declare:
Touch your heart and you will plainly see,
Life is fraudulent, but here and there
It embellishes deceit with trickery.
 
Now look up and face the silver heaven,
Read your fortune by the moon and plead,
Just calm down, mortal man, don't raven
The eternal truth you do not need.
 
Well, it's nice to think in spring so crowned,
That this life has been the righteous way.
Let your easy girlfriends get around,
Let the boys delude you and betray.
 
Let the girls caress me, I'll abide it,
Let the vicious tongues be sharp and thin, -
I have long been living all provided,
I've got mercilessly used to everything.
Highness chills my heart. I'm feeling daunted.
And the stars are cold, unlike they used to be.
Those I used to love are disappointed,
Those I worshiped have forgotten me.
 
Though I'm ostracised and censured here,
Yet I keep on smiling, not depressed at all...
Living in this world, so near and dear,
I am grateful to my life for all.