Читать книгу In Praise of Poetry - Ольга Седакова - Страница 12

2. THE STEED

A traveler rides along a dark road,

he rides without hurrying, rides on and on.

“Ask me, my steed, whatever you like,

ask me anything—I will answer it all.

People will not listen to my words,

and God knows all without my tales.

How very strange it all is:

Why does fire burn in this world,

why do we fear midnight,

does anyone feel happiness?

I will say—but you will not believe—

how much I love the nighttime road,

how much I love this banishment

and tomorrow they will banish me again.

So come nearer, time of mercy, of healing,

drink down the hangovers of my youth,

draw forth the stinger of young years

from the fresh hot wound—

and then I shall be the wisest of all!”

The steed does not speak, but an answer is heard,

the long road draws onward.

And no one on this earth is happy.

And the unhappy? They are remarkably few.