A moon gate in my wall: собрание стихотворений

Of course, it's fair! Not in the present
the end of which it cannot see
and not in that which it bewails
or does not have the strength to be.

But in the changing succession

of suddenly bedazzled days,
its gift of momentary gladness
the transient kindness of its ways.

So all around us, and forever:

under a dagger's constant aim
people will kiss and gather flowers
and build their houses just the same.

In spite of all the grief of partings,

of all the hands wrung in despair,
of all premeditated falsehood,
it still will be forever fair!

17 July 1965

615. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). Звезды [276]

Children are taught in textbooks
that stars are so far away —
I somehow never believed them,
those things they used to say.

I used to love as a child

to stay awake in bed:
and stars would ever so lightly
rain tinkling round my head.

From the blackened boughs of chestnuts

I would shake them down to the sand,
and, filling my pockets with them,
could buy the wealth of the land.

Since then I've been mean and stingy,

— oh heart! — but, forsaking youth,
I never forgot, growing older,
my childhood's merry truth.

We live low down on the ground

and the sky is so far, and yet —
I know that the stars are near us
and can be easily met.

15 June 1967

616. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). «Вот стоишь, такая родная…» [277]

In your plain little coat and kerchief,
so familiar and dear, you stand,
the key to our promised heaven
you hold in your empty hand.

Let's set out once again together!

The hills ever darker grow.
Does it matter that we are tired?
We've so little left to go.

If only we're never parted

in the lonely course of our fate,
if we only have strength together
to reach the Highest Gate!

Once again, let us bless each other

as we used to, and never fear —
they will let us enter together,
that's long been decided, dear.

July 1967

617. Дмитрий Кленовский (1893–1976). «Легкокрылым гением ведомы…» [278]