Vladislav Khodasevich

Lady’s hands were washed and serviced,
Lady’s hands were strongly stirred, 
This good Lady didn’t forget, else,
A red neck that was cut here.

Poor Lady, with her fears,
Shakes in her bed like a birdie. 
She didn’t sleep for hundred years – 
I didn’t – for six years in order.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, December, 2000