I recall, the butterfly struggled out of window.
And wings were pounding thinly.
The glass is thin and it is transparent.
But distance by it ianyway separated.
It happened in May. I was five years old.
It happened in our old barton.
And to this small prisoner light air was returned -
I released her to empty garden.
And so when I die, they will interrogate: -
What on the earth was your good case? -
I'll say: on the May Day I had no idea
To cause butterfly any evil.
***
Бабочка («Помню я, бабочка билась в окно…»)
Помню я, бабочка билась в окно.
Крылышки тонко стучали.
Тонко стекло, и прозрачно оно.
Но отделяет от дали.
В мае то было. Мне было пять лет.
В нашей усадьбе старинной
Узнице воздух вернул я и свет.
Выпустил в сад наш пустынный.
Если умру я, и спросят меня —
В чем твое доброе дело? —
Молвлю я «Мысль моя майского дня
Бабочке зла не хотела».
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so touching, so sincere, so hopeful. A child's innocence is affirmed by her spontaneous kindness to a small creature's suffering. And the child actually grew prematurely in her moral being because she realized she had performed a good work, not for her sake but for the other being's sake. The sentiments and actions of this poem make it entirely consistent with Christian values but also Buddhist. I can imagine a Zen monk reciting this poem to teach children spiritual values.