NEW YEAR’S POEM
after Mikhail Lermontov
how many times encircled by
a motley crowd
in front of me
as in a dream
cacophonies of dance
& music
speeches learned by heart
in phatic whispers
mixing with shapes of people
absent a mind or soul
grimacing masks
yet so fastidious
much as they touch
my cold hands
with uncaring boldness
beauties of the town
hands spared a tremor
over lengths of time
outwardly absorbed by
gauds & vanitas
I cherish in my soul
an ancient wistfulness
for sacred sounds
of years long gone
& if in any way
it comes to me
that bird-like I dissolve
in flight remembering
the shallow past
myself a child surrounded
by familiar places
high manor house & orchard
bower left in ruins
a green net of grasses
as a cover
for the sleeping pond
& out beyond it
hidden in haze like smoke
a distant village
fog across the fields
I’ll walk here, here I’ll enter
a dark passage
through these bushes
where this evening light peers
& the sere leaves
crackle under foot
my every step demurring
& in my chest
already wistful, strange
a squeezing sound
the more I think of her
desiring & weeping
how I love this creature
of my dreams
eyes full of azure fire
& rosy little smile
like early morn
past hedgerows
shows a fresh
demise of color
like a magic kingdom’s
mighty lord
I pine here through long hours
lonely days
under a storm, a heavy load
of doubts & passions
like a new-risen isle
an innocent in midst of oceans
blooming in that briny wilderness
& having recognized
myself I recognize
my own delusions
hear the crowd of humans
with its noises
scattering my dreams
an uninvited guest
how I would like to blast
their gayety
their feast day
hold them in contempt
& blind them
with my iron verses
bursting with bitterness
& rage .
Translation from Russian by Jerome Rothenberg & Milos Sovak
