Неразменная бабочка 1999
Translated by Larisa Schultz ©

THE NEVER-DYING BUTTERFLY

              (la chansonette)

No sudden whirlwind should disrupt this peace,
but nothing will persuade the wind to cease:
it claims its right to blow without relief - 
and separates the pollen from the sleeve.

     A minute back, or two - the time was brief -
     a butterfly was sitting on the sleeve.
     A butterfly that was fragile and white,
     and gone, as if it never had arrived.

             But will it not come back a year from now,
             from nothingness emerging God knows how?
             To rustle, in the mist to disappear,
             and to return in yet another year.

And if there're things that need to be explained,  
it means that nothing needs to be explained.
But if there's something worth explaining here,
it will cost nothing to explain it clear.

     I often see an ocean in a dream,
     a promenade along it with a stream
     of brilliant lights... a sight not to be missed!
     The sea, the land, the pollen and the mist.

           Like a mirage, a yacht is looming there.
           A sense of mutiny is in the air.
           And in the street, like a mirage again,
           along the ocean rides a wedding train.

The coat is black, the veil shines in the lights:
somewhere to happiness the couple rides,
just married, going somewhere far away
to nothingness, to heaven, to the bay.

      The officer's reserved, but the young bride
      finds in what happens such a great delight
      that she can't bring herself to let you know
      whether her name's Charlotte, or not quite so.  

           His lorgnette's lens is from the finest glass.
           Her veil is white, like wings of butterflies.
           And at the place to which their carriage runs,
           the rebel yacht awaits with lights and guns.

The pollen and the mist slow down the wheels.
The ocean now a different face reveals.
It looks like a disaster might be near...
But I put down a semicolon here.   

       And then I climb aboard a kiddy plane,
       and rush to where the ocean swings its mane,
       the yacht, the couple, the mirage float high,
       and flies that never-dying butterfly.
                        
             And if there're things that need to be explained,
             it means that nothing needs to be explained.
             But if there's something worth explaining here,
             it will cost nothing to explain it clear.