Rozhdestvensky Robert. Collection of Poems

Robert Rozhdestvensky

Collection of Poems

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

-- One, Indeed, Needs Very Little:

Just to Look...

-- We Are Perfectly Matched

-- As Severe as a War...

-- Museum of Natural Sciences

-- For That Fellow

-- Instants

-- Nostalgia

-- The Snow

-- The Dream

-- Peace and Quiet

-- Hiroshima

-- The Irreplaceable

-- Monument to Soldier Alyosha in Plovdiv

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

One, Indeed, Needs Very Little:

Just to Look...

One, indeed, needs very little:

Look and find it in the end.

To begin with, one needs people:

just one foe

and just

one

friend.

One, indeed, needs very little

Just a path to take one's leave,

and one's wish is very simple

He just wants

his mom

to live.

One, indeed, needs very little:

peace that follows stormy days.

Just some fog and stars that twinkle,

just

one life

and just one death.

One just needs a morning paper,

With mankind the kinship bonds.

Just one planet, love and favour,

Mother Earth!

That's all one wants.

Plus

an interstellar road and

dream of flying and high speed.

That's a trifle, not important,

That's not very much, indeed.

Not a big award and wholly

negligible podium.

One

does not need much

if only

he'd be waited for

at home.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

We Are Perfectly Matched

We've been getting along since the

moment

we'll remember a whole life long;

just like words go with lips and like water

goes with thirst, we're getting

along.

Like the sky goes with birds, and the

ground

Goes with snow when winter's around

(we've been waiting for it

so long),

that's the way we are

getting along..

We were matched

knowing nothing about

what was good in this life,

what was bad,

and the calendar time

has for ever

coincided with us at that.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

As Severe as a War...

As severe as a war was that cold

winter

drilled and pierced by the winds it was

tempered

snow lay on it in a bulk,

bitter,

and the homes under its weight.

trembled.

Frost would blow across the floor,

sneaking,

our teacher sneezed and coughed,

patient.

Ink would melt in our class-room,

dripping.

and the principle would cancel

dictation.

And I knew that the winds blew with

reason,

no surprise, in the morning I have

a sore throat.

All I have in this world from that

season

are the war and winter

in my thought.

Snow would storm and slash the ground,

roaring,

and the ice in the river bed was

fierce..

Flowers bloomed on the windows,

growing,

as if each was by a bullet

pierced!

Neighbor granny put on widow's

shawl and

sat up weeping till late

hours...

Like a war that winter was

Long, and

up to now it feels like cold

showers.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Museum of Natural Sciences

Brontosaurs

Haven't come creeping up,

pterodactyls

have not come up flying

to the present day Earth with its storms

and the sun in the sky

shining.

There's no one

to blame,

I should say,

It's their own fault

entirely.

They got lost,

couldn't find their way

finding death in the blind alley.

Tree of life

is stirring its leaves,

up and down

the branches are swaying.

"man of wisdom"

sits on the top

of that tree

deep in thought

as if weighing.

He's a thinker

He knits his brows

An idea at his heart

is gnawing

He is thinking about how

He could crush himself

On his own.

He is chinning his hand, looks so good,

progress leader,

graceful and proud ...

He will think up something!

He would!

You do not have to worry.

No doubt!

Age is flying

over man's head.

turns of time

flow of life,

dally...

Is man also

the nature's branch

barren and futile blind alley?!

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

For That Fellow

In the morning I'll get up

early,

I will go across the field

roaming.

Something's happened too my mind,

really,

I recall what never fell

on me.

Rain drops beat me in the cheeks,

hollow,

twenty years is a short time,

rather.

I have never known that

fellow

who had promised:

"I'll be back, mother!"

In the meantime, the field

smells of bitterness,

early winds seem to be

green as grass.

We wake up at midnight,

and the sound we hear is

storm or, perchance,

roaring echo of war

that has passed.

It appears spring will be

long and.

harvest promises to be

mellow..

I am living in my good

homeland,

living for myself and that

fellow.

I just stoop under such weight

daily;

But I can't live otherwise,

really,

For he calls me and he keeps

singing,

and his song in me is now

ringing.

In the meantime, the field

smells of bitterness,

early winds seem to be

green as grass.

We wake up at midnight,

and the sound we hear is

storm or, perchance,

roaring echo of war

that has passed.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Instants

Do not look down on the seconds. Why?

The time will come and you will see

the reasons:

like bullets at the temple they flow by,

the instants

Each instant has its own cause and aim,

its own bells and marks,

its own colours,

the instants give some people painful shame

disgrace immortality to others

The instants are well pressed into the years,

they are compressed and pressed into the centuries

I cannot understand where

the first

and where on earth the final instant is.

The momentary instants weave the rain,

and water falls from heaven in a torrent.

At times for many years you have

to wait

to see your very last and final moment.

It will arrive as big as gulp some day

in summer when your thirst is so insistent..

And yet we should remember

anyway

our duty from the first to final instant

Do not look down on the seconds. Why?

The time will come and you will see, as imminence, -

Like bullets at the temple they flow by,

the instants

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Nostalgia

One can be nostalgic for homeland,

for the Urals, Bratsk-city, the Don and,

for the deserts, the cliffs and the mountains,

for transparent birch-trees in gardens,

for the fields with storms so severe...

I'm nostalgic for you, my dear.

For the mornings when you are awakened,

Your eyes and your shoulders, naked.

For the moments when you are around,

For hot nights when I'm down and out,

For your tears and words and for doubts,

For your smiles and even your shouts!

For your lips,

for bicker and wrangle...

I will fight nostalgia.

I'll struggle.

I am leaving, attacking the platforms,

For some reason,

I yell in the phones!

-Please help me, my darling,

I'm asking

I am nostalgic, you know,

I am gasping!

No reply. You are under bed cover...

You will see it

if I recover.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

The Snow

Thorough the window

snow had flown in that night

And by morning

it had not let up

It is snowing playfully;

and all is white,

Looks like snowflakes in a bottle shaken up

And it doesn't seem to know

where to fly

where it can find

a dwelling place.

It does no remember where's the earth and why there is grass

and why the earth and space.

Now it falls

and now it's flying up,

Up and down, at a loss,

as I can see...

I can understand the snow,

I know what's up

for it happened

more than once

to me.

Time had stopped.

And then it suddenly went back!

All the clocks and watches

vanished in the dark.

I could not remember

what to say and why

I should laugh

and why I had to cry.

After autumn spring set it.

Then winter came,

I forgot all words

and forgot your name,

I could not remember why

I needed you,

you reminded me of it,

it's true.

Full of pride

you came to me at will

putting up with my indifference anew.

Snow is melting

on your lashes still...

I just wonder

what I'd do

without you.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

The Dream

To fall asleep!

The light is off...

The city's rattling

outside.

Kaleidoscope

reflects the scene

of everything

that caught

my sight..

The little girl

in a red wig.,

a car,

no end of bridges and

Somebody said:

"It's Moscow

it is my place of birth,

my friend..."

The other one kept saying:

"Yes!

That life

is gone, I think.

There're are cars and bridge

once again:

"Well, gin or whisky,

what do you drink?"

To fall asleep now!

Right away!

To cut

the memory some way.

From bygone day to get away,

to find

new strength

for the coming

day!

I doze.

I'm silent now, you see.

The ringing globe

is empty place.

And here again

in front of me

I have

the most familiar

ways.

I must be off!

Without delay!

To feel the warmth of home I want.

We'll meet again.

I'm on my way!

To spite

the guardsmen

at check point.

The radars

turn and spin

at night.

The tracker dogs

growl in the dark

But I am laughing

and I walk,

Unrecognized,

I am going back...

With snowflakes melting

on my hand

in open space! I feel so free!

Across the ocean

here I walk

it looks

so little

in my dream!

The tricks of borders

look so small!

They're hardly visible

from height!

I'll come up to the doorway

You'll feel it,

and wake up

all right.!

Come back now as a

thorny tree,

come back ,

you girl,

with a sharp sight.

(Remember

how we used to live:

a fine step basement,

on the right?).

The vastness

of the hasty words

the greatness

of a gentle phrase...

Let it all be

like on the first day.

Let it all be

like the first phase.

If not,

well, then,

I think,

Let all reproaches

be anew,

I will

endure everything,

if only, dear,

I had you!

If only you

were in my arms

And dreams...

Why are you slow?!

Come now!

You see

I have arrived.

I'm waiting

and I ask

Do not be late!

I wish I fell asleep!...

10.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Peace and Quiet

It's quiet in grass.

It is quiet.

It's quiet in grass.

And in canes on the bank,

it's quiet in wood,

you feel embarrassed

to open your eyes

and step

on the ground.

It's quiet and still.

so quiet, that you feel

pains in the back

So that

to utter a word

is the same as

to kill.

The shuttering, howling

and screaming world

is ill, in dismay,

It lies

all swaddled cross-wise

on the bedspread, tight.

So quiet,

it seems that all birds

flock after flock.

have flown away

and people

have abandoned the earth

one by one

they have taken to flight.

As if it has turned

into a noiseless museum of

quiet day.

It's quiet,

so you have to

listen to music as if you must recall

someone's face.

It's quiet,

so that the lowest thought

can be heard from

a distant place.

So quiet

that you want to begin

a new life.

It's so quiet...

11.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Hiroshima

That is how the city won fame:

A queer

military man came,

an old man

with the face of young guy

"come on,

he said

- fellows, let's fly.

"Now, boys,

there calls the bell,

We are lucky like hell!"

At 7: 49 today

It was all just like yesterday.

That's all

- the officer sighed

We've taken

a lucky sight".

At 8:12 in the morning

It's time - they said.

At 8:15

A big puff of cloud

flew up over the world.

And roared

Triumphantly.

The sun blinked ,

screwed it's eye turning cold,

both shuddered -

the Boing

and God!...

The pilot exclaimed:

what a good sight!

That very moment

in the melted dark

the sense of the good and the bad

vanished

and cracked.

And people of the world

Have heard the word:

there is Hiroshima

There is no Hiroshima.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

The Irreplaceable

Somebody cries,

and somebody growls,

a lively song

from windows resounds.

And the old saying triumphs again:

all are replaceable, women and men.

cowards and

heroes,

laundresses,

secretaries,

all are replaceable.

All is replaceable!

Acting precisely and strictly

as ever

Let us replace our Lord by the devil!

A soup by a soap

and a pawn by a pawn,

we have been doing it since

we've been born.

Let us replace

hills by fields this instance,

top managers

by their assistants.

A funeral by a joyful festival,

All are replaceable.

All is replaceable.

It means

we were christened vainly,

and vainly

we counted

the harvest yearly.

Vainly we drowned

in lands of plowing

vainly we worshipped

Old Slavic writing.

Vainly we bent over pikes that we caught.

Vainly composers their melodies wrote.

Vainly the architect

his paper wastes

vainly do mothers weep over the graves.

Vainly attracted us

roads inaccessible,

All are replaceable.

All is replaceable.

I'm angry as ever

I humbly swear

by shuttered Heaven:

The saying is lying!

The saying

is wrong!

The river Volga

is flowing along.

Irreplaceable

are winds so stormy,

irreplaceable are

Suzdal and Smolny!

Irreplaceable

are the tints of flags,

irreplaceable

is the good old flask.

Irreplaceable

are berry and flower,

so is the academician Landau.

Irreplaceable cosmic-liner,

irreplaceable Korolyov, the designer.

Even the artists of traveling circus

Even the glaziers and simple workers,

Even a cook

of ambition incapable...

are irreplaceable.

Irreplaceable.

I'm sorry, I will admit willy-nilly,

life will go on

when we perish, really.

The irreplaceable grannies concern

The little kids

that have not yet grown.

There will be new ones

In Omsk and Tula,

over the lilac woods

and the tundra.

There will be

hundreds of thousands even,

irreplaceable

men and women.

Irresponsible

in power and strength,

irreplaceable

like Russia itself!

No matter famous

or not quite famous

Ir-re-pla-ce-able men of genius!

13.

Robert Rozhdestvensky

(translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

Monument io Soldier Alyosha in Plovdiv

The view from here is as wide as the ocean,

The horizon is almost dissolved in haze.

Like a guardian angel

Soldier Alyosha

Over Plovdiv-city

Is raised.

Alyosha, the sculptor has made a mistake.

Your looks must have cramped his style

His knowlege of you must have been quite vague

Or, perhaps, it was absolute null.

You look like a boulder, sleepy and gray,

A sort of a dumb rock.

You're sullen in the stone

While you used to be merry

And were always

Willing to talk...

The haze will fall on the motionless forest

Making it tenderly blue...

Alyosha, now I am almost

Ten years older than you...

I just grew up after the war

But I am courageous enough.

I have seen a lot,

You have seen much more,

You have known the loss of life...

It's no good to disturb the dead.

I'd better give up. Quit. Lay off...

Instead of asking: "Alyosha, how's death?"

I ask: "Alyosha, how is life?"

My question may sound strange, pure fluff,

I just have to clear up this thing:

Do I, in fact, live the kind of life

For which you once ceased living?

Believe me,

it's my constant exam!

I'm taking it all the time.

I look at my own self, with bias

Through your merciless eyes.

And I cannot hide myself from these eyes,

They don't set my mind at rest...

I have to account for two lives!

I've got two hearts in my chest!

No danger will make me fearful or anxious

For a soldier looks into my mind.

Alyosha,

I'm leaving for Russia.

What shall I tell your mama?

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Аннотация: Robert Rozhdestvensky Collection of Poems (translated from the Russian by Alec Vagapov)

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Collection of Poems