The wind runs smoothly atop the water,
Its silky dress wraps ‘round my boat.
The face of heaven, so haughtily pallid,
drops golden tresses and lets them float.
The crystal ashes of dragonfly flicker
begin their viscous chaotic cruise!
And echo of my departing singing
Would ricochet into rocky blues!
The rocks would blush as they bump their foreheads,
Then fix their damaged and spiky hair.
And geological ikebana
Sinks its reflection and loves its glare!
The open visors of ancient caverns:
Ask to be let in – they won’t refuse!
And on your right bats will stir and rustle,
And on your left is my rocky blues!
At night the sky shows its starry freckles
And throws the shade of a purple moon
On backs of humorless sleeping castles,
Under the feet of immense lagoons.
We’ll wear the silk of the lake, and gladly
dispose of doubts, and joy unlock!
And, thick with echo, the lake will serve us
Exhilarating blues on the rocks!
*Перевод стихотворения "Наскальный Блюз" сделан Михаилом Вороненко и опубликован с его разрешения.
"Наскальный Блюз" - стихотворение-финалист международного поэтического фестиваля 2010 года "Pushkin in Britain" - http://www.stihi.ru/2008/09/22/4248