El Balcón

A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze, una spalla dove piange la mortee un bosco di colombe disseccate. C'e' un frammento del mattinonel museo della brina. C'è un salone con mille vetrate.

In Vienna there are ten little girls,a shoulder for death to cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrowin the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.

Ночь на пороге. Над наковальнями мракагулкое лунное пламя. Ночь на пороге. Сумрачный вяз обернулсяпесней с немыми словами. Ночь на пороге. Если тропинкою песниты проберешься к поляне... Ночь на пороге....ночью меня ты оплачешьпод…

Протяжны рыдания в гулкой пещере. (Свинцовое тонет в багряном.)

By the East River and the Bronxboys were singing, exposing their waistswith the wheel, with oil, leather, and the hammer. Ninety thousand miners taking silver from the rocksand children drawing stairs and perspectives. But none of them…

I want to sleep the sleep of the apples, I want to get far away from the busyness of the cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that childwho longed to cut his heart open far out at sea. I don't want them to tell me again how the…

No one understood the perfumeof the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody knew that you tormenteda hummingbird of love between your teeth. A thousand Persian little horses fell asleepin the plaza with moon of your forehead, while…

I know that my profile will be serenein the north of an unreflecting sky. Mercury of vigil, chaste mirrorto break the pulse of my style. For if ivy and the cool of linenare the norm of the body I leave behind, my profile in the sand will…