You think that if I sit near the wall -
I can't stretch out to you near the window?
You think that out of my love on the spot
my poems - above you - I'll not spill them?
From me you're always going away.
All life: unhappend, unaсhieved, undone.
But why with you I feel myself so calm?
as if you become mine this very day.
***
Ты думаешь, когда сижу у стенки,
я до тебя к окну не дотянусь?
Ты думаешь, что от любви мгновенно
стихами над тобой не разольюсь?
Но ты всегда уходишь от меня,
Всю жизнь: не став, не сделав, не дойдя.
но почему с тобой мне так спокойно,
как будто ты моя уже сегодня?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is so beautiful - that's obvious on the first reading - and multiple readings reveal what makes it so. Its beauty comes from the intimate tone, it's a message barely whispered to just one person. But it's also beautiful because its truth is so obvious, there's no need to examine things, the truth of your emotions envelops me as I read. Here I sit, a fellow poet, accustomed to using words and often, but I'm rendered speechless by the intimacy, the honesty, oh, the tenderness that every line conveys. Most especially the last two. Anything more I would say would be too heavy and your poem is light and wants to fly.