Even Your Name To Me...

Even your name to me is contemptible,
But when you blink and squint your eyes,
I hear the howl of a multyfoamy stream,
And from a desert - the rainstorm comes.

The golden and brown eye - is silent,
The thin fingers seek for a throat...
Come. Creep up. I shall strike -
And, as a cat, you shall curve...

poem by A. Blok, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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