A moon gate in my wall: собрание стихотворений

From my childhood, you were always near me—
in a woman's tender first embrace,
in the floor that bore my infant footsteps,
in the first warm sunlight on my face.

After that, you always walked beside me,

gave me Paris in the month of May,
Andalusian gardens, Roman sunrise,
— speaking Russian all along my way.

Then, I thought — not knowing you were with me —

that it was myself I used to hear;
there was too much noise and too much gladness
drowning out all else in my young ear.
It is only now, when all is quiet,
that I have been able to divine
finally, the voice — in all the stillness —
which I long ago mistook for mine.
Now I know: if ever I was worthy
in this life, from very early youth;
if at any time my earthly falsehood
had in any way resembled truth;

if I kissed a woman without wounding,

felt a flower, and it never died,
— it was all because you leaned to touch me,
all because you never left my side.

And of all the things you did, the wisest

was that all day long till night would fall
you were always able to protect me
from myself, most dangerous of all.

March 1960

612. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). В лесу [273]

Hot as a bonfire is the summer noon,
but in this wood relief awaits you still,
the morning freshness will not leave it soon,
and it is all suffused with early chill.

Stay for a while. Sit in the nut-grove bower

upon this hidden moss-grown stump, and hear,
while drinking in the languor of the hour,
the wondrous tale unfolding for your ear.

A leaf is wafted to the mossy ground;

fragrant, the little mushrooms upward reach;
a sigh, a rustle, whisperings… the sound,
insatiable, of creation's speech.

28 Feb. 1961

613. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). Всевышнему [274]

By the starry sky and my own soul
You proclaim that You indeed exist.

As an infant blind from the beginning,

never having known his mother's face,
yet remembers whispering and singing,
hands caressing tenderly and bringing
gentle warmth and never-ending grace,
so do I, not having ever seen You,
know You, feel Your breath from where I stand,
hear Your song, Your whisper understand,
and against all human earthly reason
recognize the warmth that is Your hand.

13 Mar. 1961

614. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). Наш мир [275]