The Childhood

We were lulled by the merciful silence,
And didn’t know, then, anything else,
Only would cut some blossoms in wildness
And present them their fancied names.

And when we were laid in nights’ darkness
Then imagined that only for us
Was ignited that stars’ gorges vastness – 
And just once in all length of the times.

… Tho’ our ways sometimes painful and crazy,
Tho’ our road in life’s steeply laid, 
This simplicity of the Genesis
Lives in our hearts till the end.

None can turn back our lives’ vigor rivers,
One who tries – only drudges in vain,
But the moments of happiness, immense,
Would renew our being again. 

And again we would gaze at stars’ thronging
As if see it the first time and last, 
As if world was created this morning,
And discovered first time just by us.

And it seems so a new one, already,
So strange for our years and place,
That again we, like children, are ready
To endow wild blossoms with names. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, April, 2001