I fell in love with you, just when had seen you, dearest,
I still recall the simplest talk around us,
You were just one the mute, and speech of fire, fierce,
In lost of sounds words, were send me by your eyes.

Days by the days were sunk. The year had passed since then.
And spring is sending us its living rays, once more,
The flowers are set in fairy dress again,
But I’m? I’m still in love with you as was before.

And you’re, as in the past, the silent one and sad;
Only your look sometimes is glowing and speaking,
Not in such way, sometimes, the moon – an empress, great, –

Is hiding her bright face behind a mound, pricking? –
Yet, and behind the rock, with her forehead inclined,
From darkness, narrow, she sheds the gorgeous light.

In honor of the First Day of Chanukah, we present this work by one of Russia’s most famous Jewish poets.

 

How I remember solstice days
Through many winters long completed!
Each unrepeatable, unique,
And each one countless times repeated.

Of all these days, these only days,
When one rejoiced in the impression
That time had stopped, there grew in years
An unforgettable succession.

Each one of them I can evoke.
The year is to midwinter moving,
The roofs are dripping, roads are soaked,
And on the ice the sun is brooding.

Then lovers hastily are drawn
To one another, vague and dreaming,
And in the heat, upon a tree
The sweating nesting-box is steaming.

And sleepy clock-hands laze away
The clock-face wearily ascending.
Eternal, endless is the day,
And the embrace is never-ending.

 

Do you need an explanation
what the Russian God can be?
Here’s a rough approximation
as the thing appears to me.

God of snowstorms, God of potholes,
every wretched road you’ve trod,
coach inns, cockroach haunts, and ratholes –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of frostbite, God of famine,
beggars, cripples by the yard,
farms with no crops to examine –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of breasts and… all sagging,
swollen legs in bast shoes shod,
curds gone curdled, faces dragging –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of brandy, pickle vendors,
those who pawn what serfs they’ve got,
of old women of both genders –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of medals and of millions,
God of yard sweepers unshod,
lords in sleighs with two postilions –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

Fools win grace, wise men be wary,
there he never spares the rod,
God of everything contrary –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of all that gets shipped in here,
unbecoming, senseless, odd,
God of mustard on your dinner –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

God of foreigners, whenever
they set foot on Russian sod,
God of Germans, now and ever –
that’s him, that’s your Russian God.

We present this work in honor of the Russian holiday, National Unity Day.

 

I built myself a monument, eternal and miraculous,
It’s higher than the Pyramids, than metal it is harder;
Swift winds and thunder cannot knock it down
The flight of time cannot demolish it.

Thus I won’t really die! The part of me that’s largest
Will baffle death, and will escape decay,
My fame will grow, and never wither,
As long as Slavs are honored in this world.

And word of me shall spread from the White Sea to the Black,
Where Volga, Don, Neva and Ural rivers flow,
Each member of the countless tribes will know
How from obscurity I found my way to fame,

By daring first in lively Russian speech
To celebrate the virtues of Felitsa,
To talk of God with intimate simplicity,
And with a smile announce the truth to kings.

O Muse! take pride in your well-earned rewards,
Disdain all those who show disdain for you,
And with an easy and unhurried hand,
With dawn eternal crown your brow.

We present this work in honor of the 50th anniversary of the poet’s death.

 

Part One

Bears went to the hike
A-riding on a bike.

Then came Tom-the-Cat,
Back-to-front he sat.

Spry mosquitoes drifted by
In a big balloon on high.

Lobsters looked like shrimps
On a dog that limps.

Wolves were mounted on a horse.
Lions drove in cars, of course.

Hares in pairs
Crammed in a tram.

Toad rode on a broom…

What a merry bunch!
Gingernuts they munch.

Suddenly a Titan
Crawls beneath the gate —
Whiskers meant to frighten,
Very stiff and straight.
Cock-the-Roach
Cock-the-Roach,
Cock-the-Roach the Great!!

Sharp and loud his shout rings out,
While his whiskers wave about:
“Don’t you worry, I shan’t hurry,
But I’ll gulp and gobble you!
That is true!
Oh, too true!
There’s no hope for you!”

Creatures rock and sway,
Fainting right away.

Such a dreadful flight!
Wolves eat wolves on sight.

Poor old Uncle Crock
Gulps a frog in shock,

And Mum Jumbo, all a-shake,
Sits on a hedgehog by mistake.

Only Lobsters feel all right —
In a pinch they love a fight.
It is true that back they wriggle,
Yet defiant whiskers wiggle.
Let the tyrant fear!
Let the giant hear!!
“Hey, you, listen!
We’re proud, too! We have whiskers just like you.
We can shout out louder, too.
So, Big Whiskers, off with you!”

Having made that clear
All move to the rear.
Then the Hippo loudly hails
Crocodiles and mighty Whales:
“The knight who with his might will fight

And put this horrid thing to flight
Shall find such favour in our eyes .
That two fat frogs shall be his prize —
And we’ll grant him a pine-cone
Of number one size…!”
“We don’t fear that monster.
No! Giants we can overthrow.
With our teeth,
With our tusks,
With our hooves we’ll bring him low
What a bold and happy throng!
To the fight they dash along.

But when they see those whiskers wave,
Oh, dear me!
Not a single beast is brave.
Oh, dear me!
Over hill, over dale, through the woods
they tear…
Cock-the-Roach’s whiskers gave them such
a scare!
To the scene the Hippo came
And his face went red with shame:
“Hey, you Bulls and Rhinos there
Don’t you dare hide in your lair!
Were you born
With no horn?
Toss him in the air!”
Bulls and Rhinos say: “Don’t blare!
Please speak softly. Do take care!
We would surely
Gore him sorely,
But horns are dear, like hide and hair,
And who will pay for wear and tear?”

How they shake and quake underneath the hedge
By the swampy lake, every nerve on edge!

Crocodiles in nettles hide their heads and skulk.
In a ditch Mum Jumbo settles down to sulk.

Creatures’ teeth rattle, so great are their fears —
Look at their shivering, quivering ears!
Every Monkey hops and skips,
Grabs his bags and packs his grips.
Falling into frantic fits
Each
One
Quits!
Sharks hate worry,
Scurry, hurry,
But their tails make quite a flurry,
Till the swish makes cuttle fish
Scuttle off
Like other fish.

Part Two

Cock-the-Roach was named the Victor Great and Grand,
King of Field and Forest, Lord of All the Land.
Ginger-Whiskers ruled-life was at its worst,
Birds and beasts were fooled. (May his name be cursed!)
He struts and rubs his yellow tummy
As he orders every Mummie:
“Bring your little ones to me.
I shall take them with my tea,
Or eat them up at supper!”

Oh, those wretched Beasts!
How they howl and growl!

They declare in every lair
That the glutton and his feasts
Are unfair and foul.

“Why! it breaks a mother’s heart
With her little one to part,
Chubby Jumbo, Baby Hare,
Or a cuddly Teddy Bear.

The rogue, the scoundrel! Oh, how cruel
To use our babes to make his gruel!!”
How they weep no words can tell.
Mummies bid their babes farewell.

Then one morning through the dew
Hopped and skipped a Kangaroo.
When he saw great Cock-the-Roach
Loud he shouted with reproach:
“Goodness! Do you think he’s strong?
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Think again, for you are wrong!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Cock-the-Roach! Cock-the-Roach…
…He’s nothing but a brown cockroach!
That’s the horrid midget’s name —
If you obey him you’re to blame!

Haven’t you got claw and paw,
Fangs to tear and bite?
How could you bow down before
Such a tiny mite?”

But the Hippos now felt bad,
So they whispered:
“Are you mad?
Go away! Don’t make a fuss.
You will make things worse for us!”

Suddenly a wee bird flew
From the woods dark green and blue,
Flitting fast tas any arrow,
Such a perky little Sparrow!
“Cheep-peep-peep!
A-cheep-a-peep!”
How he nips! Oh, what a cheek!
For the cockroach in his beak
Dies without a single squeak.
His long ginger whiskers are hidden from view.
That giant, the tyrant has now got his due!

Oh, how happy, daft and daffy,
Act those creatures now they’ve heard!
They feel great, congratulating
Both themselves and that small bird.

Donkeys shout out: “Glory!” to
the Sparrow’s beak,
Braying out the story of their narrow
squeak.
Billy Goats with goatees sweep and
clean the street.
Rams set kettle-drums a-rattle.
Hoot-owls toot
as if in battle.
Crows in towers
caw for hours.
In the belfry scatty bats
Dance a reel
and wave their hats.

Mummie Jumbo, looking smart,
Skips in a jig with all her heart,
Till the Earth and Sky start rumbling —
Down the very Moon comes tumbling
And it sends poor Jumbo stumbling.

What a fuss the Beasts are making!
From the lake the Moon they’re raking.
They must nail it up on high
In its place to light the sky!

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 235th birthday.

 

While honouring the grape’s ruby nectar,
All sportingly, laughingly gay;
We determined — I, Silvia, and Hector,
To drive old dame Wisdom away.

“O my children, take care,” said the beldame,
“Attend to these counsels of mine:
Get not tipsy! for danger is seldom
Remote from the goblet of wine.”

“With thee in his company, no man
Can err,” said our wag with a wink;
“But come, thou good-natured old woman,
There’s a drop in the goblet — and drink!”

She frowned — but her scruples soon twisting,
Consented: — and smilingly said:
“So polite — there’s indeed no resisting,
For Wisdom was never ill-bred.”

She drank but continued her teaching:
“Let the wise from indulgence refrain;”
And never gave over her preaching,
But to say, “Fill the goblet again.”

And she drank, and she totter’d, but still she
Was talking and shaking her head:
Muttered “temperance” – “prudence” –
until she Was carried by Love to bed.

 

That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover
of darkness
no one would see, you see.
I bent over her, it’s the truth,
and as I did,
it’s the truth, I swear it,
I said
like a kindly parent:
“Passion’s a precipice –
so won’t you please
move away?
Move away,
please!”