Читать книгу In Praise of Poetry - Ольга Седакова - Страница 39

THE JOURNEY

When this misfortune comes to an end

or this happiness turns away,

it will move off like the towering waves,

and I will walk down a familiar road,

at last, going where I am bidden to go.

Then I shall listen to what I will hear,

Speak, that I may hear these words:

“I have been waiting for you—and here you are.

I have always known you and now recognize you.

Can you think I would forget?”

Each of us wants to be recognized, known,

for birds to fly down in greeting,

for the dead to stand up as if living,

for the beasts to bring their young

and for time, slowly, to unfold,

like lightning remembered from long ago.