<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=546036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>September, I-III</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Yury Nagibin</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>What's an awful weather outdoors? However, <br>Of no matter such an incident -<br>In january I'm living as in september, <br>Persistently and frenzily.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">September, don't draw your wing, <br>Your wing of yellow-orange colour, <br>And, please, postpone your last will, <br>Your last day - give me linger, rather.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wait me a little, don't sleep, <br>All enveloped by the will of grantor, <br>And, as in past times, waste your riches, <br>Indulge all growing trees with bounty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What it had been! How the grass had strained<br>In order to turn green with such completeness, <br>And a tree, as a copper pipe, had played, <br>Had shined above the ground withered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To all front gardens, overfilled to edge, <br>The nature spended, wasted its resource, <br>And dahlia displayed its inflorescence<br>And stood still, waiting for next growth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The crowd of the startled painters<br>Was looking furtively on the colour scene, <br>And crowded, and wiped its sweat<br>From foreheads, cried of being innocent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cried of not being organizer of commotion, <br>And that those red colours were not shed all by it, <br>And as a proof, the crowd showed<br>Its poor palette then to everybody.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, you are surely not guilty. All the same<br>The boughs will change colours in the autumn, <br>But all this - that of yellow or red, <br>Or green - let live forever, though.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How that made dirty, how eyes were hitted, <br>How the former colouration was broken! <br>And in this rapture - all the market did<br>The prices on the apples lower...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we had met. You'd gone outdoors.<br>Everything had ended. Everything had started.<br>No any day was charged before<br>This day, as if before the Christmas party.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we had seen each other. Coming in the doors.<br>And no any house was in there...<br>We had met, as the leaders old<br>With leaned back heads - together -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fom pride, from knowledge - what is what -<br>From deep mistrust and inner tension.<br>By your forehead, by my forehead, as dot, <br>This dark motion had quickly flashed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We met, as children in the morning, <br>With leaned back heads - of inner kindness, <br>Of readiness to be good, though, <br>Being timid with the words and shy so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">September, oh september, that's your guilt, <br>You operated so blindly, wrongly.<br>The freedom of indifference - you still<br>Is to be cursed, and blessed -and simulataneously.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your client may be happy in the limits<br>Of your great fortresses, which were so solid built, <br>Invulnerable for the pain and love deep.<br>How vindictively they look at me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we had met. September was such generous<br>To hold its feasts abundant, unsuspiciously.<br>But by assess of importance of this play, <br>All people and all trees had shrinked back quickly. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My hands recovered their sight.<br>And eyes became, as hands, effective, greedy.<br>And then appeared voices in my larynx, <br>Dried up of thirst for the new sounds, real.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this my core I'm understanding once in freedom.<br>You stand, and I'm standing -sounding, and opened for pain.<br>September added to our hair the orange tint, and teached us<br>To live, as he did, just exerting to last date.<br> <br>(To be continued)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bella+Akhmadulina">Bella Akhmadulina</a>, translated by Lyudmila Purgina<div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=546036" data-title="September, I-III de Bella Akhmadulina" data-description="To Yury Nagibin I What's an awful weather outdoors? However, Of no matter such an incident - In january I'm living as in september, Persistently and frenzily. September, don't draw your wing, Your wing of yellow-orange colour, And, please, p..."></div> </div> </div>

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