* * *
(Translation Evh.Borysova)It is time that the gods came out of the habitable
things ...
The walls in my house, like in the book
perelistnuli. New page.
Only the wind, which awakened her in the mood
fluffing like soil, air: a field
breathing new. Gods, gods!
you coming, you're sleeping in things,
rising from its dawn to the rivers,
chtosnyatsya us wash your face and neck,
easily pour their force
in life that we complete it seems to end.
Let again be your morning, the gods.
We repeat. But you started.
World с вами восстает, и вновь сияет
в разломах наших неудач начало ...
* * *
Now it is time that gods were allowed to
out of lived ... And that she
umschlügen every wall in my house
. New page. Only the wind, such
the leaf in turn gave it to drafts, to switch blades
the air like a clod;
a new field of breath. Oh gods, gods!
your Oftgekommen, Sleepers in the things that get up
the rain, which at the well, which we suspect
, neck and face wash
and the interference of her restedness
to what seems full, our full life.
Once either your morning, gods. We repeat
. You alone source.
The world is with you, and early
shines on each crack and crevice of our failure ...
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