Andrei Voznesensky Poems
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My doc announced yesterday :
"You may have talent, though it's hidden,
your beak, however, is frost-bitten,
so stick at home on a cold day".
The nose, eh?
As irretrievable as time,
conforming to the laws of medicine,
your nose, like that of any person,
keep growing
steadily,
with...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
A poet can't be in disfavour,
he needs no awards, no fame.
A star has no setting whatever,
no black nor a golden frame.
A star can't be killed with a stone, or
award, or that kind of stuff.
He'll bear the blow of a fawner
lamenting he's not big enough.
...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
I started up the engine and I lingered.
Where should I go? The night was fine, I figured.
The bonnet trembled like a nervous hound.
I shivered. Night lit up the houses around.
The Balzac age, I felt its burning pain,
Chilled to the bone, I couldn't hold my own.
The age of...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
Red cows
on the asphalt road have settled.
Lazing on the asphalt pan they lie.
We drive them round
for cows are sacred!
They are loyal to the highway,
we wonder why.
"Old herdsman, we want our question answered:
Why have the cows gone mad?" "God forbid!
The point is...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
I'm waiting for my friend. The gate's unlocked.
The banisters are lit so he can walk.
I'm waiting for my friend. The times are dull and tough.
Anticipation lightens our life.
He's driving down the Ring Road, at full speed,
the way I did it when he was in need.
He will arrive...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
I hate you, rubber souls, you seem
to stretch to fit any regime.
They'll give a yawning smile, stretched wide,
and, like an octopus, they'll draw you tight.
A rubber man is an elusive rogue:
a fist gets sucked into the bog.
The rubber editor is scared of script,
the author is...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
In my land and yours they do hit the hay
and sleep the whole night in a similar way.
There's the golden Moon with a double shine.
It lightens your land and it lightens mine.
At the same low price, that is for free,
there's the sunrise for you and the sunset for...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
There is Bukashkin, our neighbor,
in underpants of blotting paper,
and, like balloons, the Antiworlds
hang up above him in the vaults.
Up there, like a magic daemon,
he smartly rules the Universe,
Antibukashkin lies there giving
Lollobrigida a caress.
The Anti-great-academician
has got a blotting paper vision.
Long...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
My life, like a rocket, makes a parabola
flying in darkness, -- no rainbow for traveler.
There once lived an artist, red-haired Gauguin,
he was a bohemian, a former tradesman.
To get to the Louvre
from the lanes of Montmartre
he circled around
as far as Sumatra!
He had to...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
Sailor, my dear, my heaven-made spouse!
There is one thing that I beg of you, man:
Kiss any strangers, and give them your flowers,
love many women. But, pray, don't love one.
These are the words that I send with my letter,
piercing land after land they will moan;
stay there as long...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei