Vladislav Khodasevich Poems

Thank God! Just ‘wise', without ‘super-‘,
I stroll among my humble verse,
Like a severe abbot, stooped,
...

I wait: some one will be knocked down
By any crazy car, at last,
The poor idler will be bound
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Blizzards have whirled all night, but the morning's clear.
Still a Sunday laziness crawls across my body,
and the Church of the Annunciation hasn't yet
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With a cane he feels his way,
blind man on a random walk,
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A thin howl from the dogs on guard.
Tonight still camped in the same place,
no-good vagabond orphans, we are
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There was a house here. They recently dismantled
the upstairs for firewood, leaving just the rough
lower stonework structure. I go there
often of an evening to relax. The open sky
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If you have eyes - through day you'll see a night
the rays from that inflaming disk won't reach.
A pair of swallows fighting to escape
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Me, me, me. What a preposterous word!
Can that man there really be me?
Did Mama really love this face,
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God alive! I'm not beyond coherence:
mindfully, I walk among my poems
like a disobliging abbot
...

Through the consoling April sun
the breeze, so very unconsoling,
a sandy whirlwind on the road -
...