English poetry
From the collection Wordplay
Why do we need negative numbers
Why do we need negative numbers?
To tell about things that never happened,
The eyes that never met each other,
The hands that never touched in passing,
The dreams turned in the wrong direction,
The words that were never spoken,
The doors that were passed in silence,
The falls that were never taken.
Why do we need negative numbers?
To seek the impossible answers,
To fly from the natural sequence,
To rhyme every presence with absence…
To face ourselves in the mirror,
To turn from ourselves in the real,
So love is only in the past perfect,
So mine will always be minus…
Why do we need negative numbers?
Why don’t we need each other?
May 2012
The Nerve
There was a hole in my tooth; it hurt.
They gave me a pill; it hurt.
They numbed me up; it hurt.
They took out the nerve; it stopped.
A hole in my heart still hurts.
I think of you; it still hurts.
I numbed my heart; it still hurts.
Where is it, the nerve of love?
If they take out my heart,
The heart that longs for you,
My eyes would still hurt
From your shadow’s bright light.
And if they take out my eyes,
The eyes that long for you,
My lips would still hurt
From kissing the air you breathe.
And if they take out my lips,
The lips that long for you,
My ears would still hurt
With the songs that you sang once.
And if they take out my ears,
The ears that long for you,
My tongue would still hurt
With the words I might have said.
May 2012
The Echo Bridge
We stood under the arch, like a hand of God,
You laughed at me, and the bridge laughed back,
You sang for me, and the bridge sang back,
Your voice trembled, and it trembled back,
But I was silent,
Shy to speak,
For I was your echo.
Passing through the meadow, daisies and weeds,
Passing through the rain, hail and mud,
Passing through the sunset of jazzy streets,
Passing through the hearts of men you loved.
These days, I often come under the bridge.
I say “Good morning!” – it always comes back.
I say “I’m happy!” – it always comes back.
I say silly things – they still come back.
And then I pause,
Hold my breath.
I say your name.
I say your name.
I say your name…
May 2012
The Great Gatsby, rhymed
Aura, hors d’oeuvres, automobiles,
Triangle, square, star,
Winning, whispering, wheels, deals,
Below dignity, above par.
Tempting, tampering, temper,
West, quest, East,
Elegance, evidence, anger,
Lust, lost, least.
Paying, playing, pulling,
Dome, dame, dime,
Soothing, suiting, suing,
Time, chime, crime.
Wavering, waiting, white ink,
Hat, scarf, glove,
Driving, riding, writing,
Lines, lanes, love.
June 2012
From the collection Poetic Liberties
Things remember you...
Things remember you
A chair in the kitchen that nobody sits on
A coupon you cut out but didn’t use
An empty towel rack in the bathroom
A toothbrush I can’t through away
A phone ringing, ringing, ringing, as I wait for you to pick it up as usual
And air, the air you breathed in every corner of my home
Things don’t cry
They don’t find solace
They just remember
March 2014
Every instant falls like a die...
Every instant falls like a die
On one face, on one feeling, on one thought
And freezes, immobile, squeezed from all sides
Every instant is a tombstone
Over myriads of unborn loves, triumphs, failures
The past is just a blanket
Over all our unlived lives
No
Every instant is a piano key
Every face is pure note
Every feeling an overtone
Every thought a dissonant chord
Memory plays the music of our past
Giving birth to triumphs, and failures, and loves
May 2015
Don’t rush to leave me...
Авторский перевод стихотворения «Не спеши покидать меня...»
Don’t rush to leave me
Stay for a moment
Let your fingers touch the things
That remember your breathing
The things that will be your reflection
When you’re gone
Let your hand slide over the table
Which held your cup of coffee
Over the mirror – suddenly
When I look in the glass
I’m seeing you…
The walls which carried your swift shadow
The lantern which you put out –
Stroke them with your hand, console them
Convince them to stay,
And leave leave hurry on
December 2016
Let us live in a house of our palms...
Авторский перевод стихотворения «Сложим из пальцев домик...»
Let us live in a house of our palms,
Where the tender moon through the roof will shine
And you and I will shine on the moon in turn
So that it won’t shiver up high, alone
We’ll fall sleep in a bed of the softest words
A bed made of feather phrases and lulling furs
We’ll stuff the pillow tightly with past regrets
A handful of promises always will keep us warm
A swallow will fly from heavens, a sign of gods
Weaving our feelings, will make a nest
Gently will place in there our love
May it be holding on, may it never fall
June 2017
New poems
The Ballad of an Old Lumberjack
One night a squall made old tree fall;
A neighbor called at me.
With hair of lead, the old man said:
– I’ll help you cut your tree.
Long life ago, past heat and snow
A lumberjack was I.
A slender girl, like fiery ball,
Cut wound across my sky.
Her sudden smiles, her scorching eyes,
Her hair’s bronzen stock...
But of that hair, in dreams’ despair
I never cut a lock.
And many trees, and many years,
And many lives apart,
With silence sword you cut your word
Of those who cut your heart.
May 2018