At the open doors - something's glimmering,
Outdoors, behind windows - images.
I don't know - ingnorance dissembling,
While asleep - I'll flow in visions.
In the silent air - melting, knowing...
Something's hided, laughing at...
What is laughing? May be mine, and longing
Heart, which's beating joyously yet.
Is it spring outdoors - pink and sleepy?
Or it is You - Clear - to me is smiling?
Or it is my only heart loving - living?
Or it's only seeming? All's recognizing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is the first poem I`ve read by a Russian poet and I enjoyed it. The only other modern Russian poet I know ist Yevtischenko (I know, the spelling is wrong) with Stolen Apples (?) . Good work.