Аллен Гинзберг в переводах Михаила Гунина

     Drinking my tea Without sugar —
     No difference.
The sparrow shits
     upside down — ah! my brain & eggs
Mayan head in a Pacific driftwood bole — Someday I'll live in N.Y.
Looking over my shoulder my behind was covered with cherry blossoms.
 Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names of the flowers-now my garden is gone.
I slapped the mosquito and missed. What made me do that?
Reading haiku I am unhappy, longing for the Nameless.
A frog floating in the drugstore jar: summer rain on grey pavements.
On the porch in my shorts; auto lights in the rain.
Another year has past-the world is no different.
The first thing I looked for in my old garden was The Cherry Tree.
My old desk: the first thing I looked for in my house.
My early journal: the first thing I found in my old desk.
My mother's ghost: the first thing I found in the living room.
I quit shaving but the eyes that glanced at me remained in the mirror.
The madman emerges from the movies: the street at lunchtime.
Cities of boys are in their graves, and in this town…
Lying on my side in the void: the breath in my nose.
On the fifteenth floor the dog chews a bone- Screech of taxicabs.
A hardon in New York, a boy in San Fransisco.
The moon over the roof, worms in the garden. I rent this house.

Feb. 29, 1958