ßâü ñêðûâàåòñÿ çà íåáîì

Ïå÷Àëü ëèê îñåíè ñêðûâÀåò:
îõÀïîê âÎðîõ áóðîâÀòûõ
óâßäøèõ ëèñòüåâ è îïÀâøèõ,
÷òî âßëî ñ âåòîê îòëåòÀþò,
îñÅííèõ âåòðîâ âÈõðè â êó÷è
òùÀòåëüíî ñìåòÀþò
è ïÎ÷âó, è ïîëßíû èìè óñòèëÀÿ
óíÛíèå ïðèðÎäó ïîãëîùàåò.
òóñêíååò îñåíü: ëÈñòüÿ ÷åðåäÎì
ìÅäëåííî  êðóæÀ  ëîæÀòñÿ,
äîæäü  êàïÅëüþ  ïðîñòó÷Èò
â ëóæ õðóñòÀëüíûå áîêÀëüöà...
â ïåðåëÈâàõ ïòÈ÷üèõ òðÅëåé
ôîí: îñÅííÿÿ ïå÷Àëü.

*    ÿâü ñêðûâÀåòñÿ çà íÅáîì.
ïðåä ãëàçÀìè: ëîæü è ôàëüøü.
îáìàíÓëè íàñ êîãäÀ-òî.
âçãëßäû ñÅðäöà çàñòèëÀÿ
íàì ìèðÀæ äàÞò â ðåÀëè
à çà íèì, óâû, íå âÈäèì:
êòî æèâ¸ò çà ïàðàëëÅëüþ?
è çà íàìè íàáëþäÀåò?

âÅòðà òðÅïåò, õðóñò îò âÅòîê,
øåëåñòÈò, øóìÈò ëèñòâÀ.
çà îêÎøêîì ïåëåíÎþ
ïÎëó ïðÈçðà÷íûé ïåéçÀæ
â áÓðûõ êðÀñêàõ, íå çåë¸íûé.
â ãëóáèíÅ ãëàâÅíñòâóåò òîñêà.
ñèíå-ñÈçûé äûì-òóìÀí
çà ñòåêëßííîþ ïðåãðÀäîé...
ìîæåò âñ¸ ýòî îáìÀí...
èëè ...ñîí?
à ÿâü âíåçÀïíî
ïðîêðóòÈëàñü, óíåñëÀñü,
êÀíóëà â ãëóõÎå ëÅòî...

*    ÿâü ñêðûâÀåòñÿ çà íÅáîì.
ïðåä ãëàçÀìè: ëîæü è ôàëüøü.
îáìàíÓëè íàñ êîãäÀ-òî.
âçãëßäû ñÅðäöà çàñòèëÀÿ
íàì ìèðÀæ äàÞò â ðåÀëè
à çà íèì, óâû, íå âÈäèì:
êòî æèâ¸ò çà ïàðàëëÅëüþ?
è çà íàìè íàáëþäÀåò?

ìèð, ãäå ìÛñëè íàøè  ðÅþò!
ëèøü è ìÅëüêîì ïîêàçÀëè:
ïÅðåä æèçíüþ, ïÎñëå æèçíè,
èíîãäà âî ñíå âèòÀåì.
íà ÷óäÅñíåéøèõ ïëàíÅòàõ:
â ìèðå ñêÀçîê, ìèðå ñíîâ.
íàñ æåñòÎêî íàêàçÀëè!
âÛâåëè èç ìèðà ïðî÷ü.
ïëÎòíîé òüìîé îòãîðîäÈëè
â äÓøè ñÅðîñòü ïîäñåëÈëè
è òîñêëÈâûé ìðÀ÷íûé áûò.
÷üÿ çàòÅÿ æÈçíè Ýòîé
ïðåòâîðÈëàñü â íÀøè äíè:
à óíÛëîå áûòü¸,
çàòîïÈâ ðàâíÈíû æÈçíè,
çàñëîíÈâ æèâÎå íÅáî,
îïå÷Àëåííîé ñòðîêÎé
êÀïëåò   â   ñÅðäöå.

*  ÿâü ñêðûâÀåòñÿ çà íÅáîì.
ïðåä ãëàçÀìè: ëîæü è ôàëüøü.
îáìàíÓëè íàñ êîãäÀ-òî.
âçãëßäû ñÅðäöà çàñòèëÀÿ
íàì ìèðÀæ äàÞò â ðåÀëè
à çà íèì, óâû, íå âÈäèì:
êòî æèâ¸ò çà ïàðàëëÅëüþ?
è çà íàìè íàáëþäÀåò?

ïåðåâîä: 

The Veil of Autumn’s Sorrow

The sorrow of the season veils the autumn’s face,
A heap of tawny leaves, a tangled, fading grace.
Withered and fallen, drifting from the boughs so slow,
They flutter down in listless flight, a quiet ebb of woe.
The whirlwinds of the autumn winds, in eddies swift and cold,
Sweep them in piles with careful haste, as time unfolds its fold.
They strew the soil, they blanket glades in rusty, muted hue,
And melancholy swallows all the world in shades of grey anew.

The autumn dims; the leaves in turn descend in slow descent,
In gentle spirals twirling down, their dance bittersweet and spent.
The rain will tap in droplets soft, like crystal goblets ring,
Reflecting pools that catch the light, yet hold no spark within.
And in the ripples of the birds’ refrains, a backdrop clear and still,
Resounds the autumn’s sorrow, deep and quiet, haunting, chill.

*  Reality is veiled behind the sky, concealed from mortal sight,
Before our eyes: deceit and falsehood, shadows cloaked in light.
We once were fooled, long years ago, by promises that lied,
They clouded visions of the heart, and left our trust denied.
They gave us mirages instead of truth, a phantom show to see,
But what lies past that parallel, we cannot ever be,
Nor see who dwells beyond the line, who watches from afar,
Silent and unseen, beyond each distant, hidden star.

The tremble of the winds, the crack of branches dry and stark,
The rustle of the foliage, a murmur in the dark.
Beyond the window, shrouded in a half;transparent veil,
Lies a landscape faint and ghostly, where colours fade to stale.
No green remains; the browns prevail, a sombre, muted tone,
And deep within, dominating all, a sorrow sits alone.
Blue;grey smoke and mist beyond the glass, a barrier cold and clear,
Perhaps it’s all a lie, a dream—or nothing we hold dear.

Reality, so sudden, spun away and drifted out of reach,
It slipped into the hollow summer, fading like a dying speech,
Lost in the silence, swallowed up, without a trace or sign,
Leaving only echoes whispering across the empty time.

*  Reality is veiled behind the sky, concealed from mortal sight,
Before our eyes: deceit and falsehood, shadows cloaked in light.
We once were fooled, long years ago, by promises that lied,
They clouded visions of the heart, and left our trust denied.
They gave us mirages instead of truth, a phantom show to see,
But what lies past that parallel, we cannot ever be,
Nor see who dwells beyond the line, who watches from afar,
Silent and unseen, beyond each distant, hidden star.

A world where thoughts of ours take wing, though only briefly shown,
Revealed in fleeting glimpses, never fully ours to own.
Between the life before us, and the life that lies ahead,
We drift in dreams sometimes, on wings of wonder, lightly led.
On wondrous planets, in the realms of fairy tales and dreams,
We were cruelly punished, torn away from all those gleaming streams.
Shut off by walls of dense, black night, enclosed in heavy gloom,
They planted grey within our souls, and filled our days with doom.

The dreary, sombre weight of life, a bleak and weary plight,
Whose scheme of being found its form and took dominion overnight.
This dull existence floods the plains of life with murky tide,
Obscuring living skies above, with sorrow deep and wide.
In lines of sorrow etched and worn, it drips into the heart,
A steady ache that never leaves, a wound that will not part.

*  Reality is veiled behind the sky, concealed from mortal sight,
Before our eyes: deceit and falsehood, shadows cloaked in light.
We once were fooled, long years ago, by promises that lied,
They clouded visions of the heart, and left our trust denied.
They gave us mirages instead of truth, a phantom show to see,
But what lies past that parallel, we cannot ever be,
Nor see who dwells beyond the line, who watches from afar,
Silent and unseen, beyond each distant, hidden star.