"In the month of May, in the month of my"

In the month of May, in the month of my
in me was so easy,
and, spreading over the earth,
made me letnost weather.

I was generous, generous
in happy anticipation of singing,
and frivolity goldfinch
I dipped into the air feathers.

But, thank God, I have become my eyes
and insight, and stricter,
and every breath, and every rise
It costs me more.

And I was involved in the mysteries of the day.
Open to me the phenomenon.
I look around
with a smile of the old Jew.

I can see how rooks Gulden,
snow hanging over black,
how boring women stare,
bending over her knitting.

And somewhere, in a pipe dudya,
not observing the flower beds and vegetable beds,
someone else's child runs
and violates the order.

Bella Akhmadulina

Preview: Sophia Sypalova

via vk.com/hikova


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