Joseph Brodsky - Roosters

~ перевод "Петухов" Иосифа Бродского


Stars hadn't gone dark yet.
Stars were where they belonged
When roosters were waking up and
Shouting throaty songs
In the hennery, perched ceremoniously.
...The silence died out,
Just like the cathedral's quiet
Dies with the first choral sound,
Echoing gloriously.

Having abandoned warm blankets,
Grouchy and half-sleeping,
Plowmen harnessed their cattle.
It was in the beginning.
The day broke as though a new egg
Revealing the orange yolk—meaning
The sun was rising. A duet
Of skylarks
Must have been singing.

Roosters usually fancied
Grains of pearl over millet,
With their roostery senses
They searched for them here and there
Dipping into the dung. Yet,
Grains were there to reclaim,
Grains were there to extract, and,
At sunrise, they would proclaim:
"We've found them all by ourselves
And husked them with remarkable artfulness.
So we're boasting to everyone else
About this fortune of ours."

In this throaty chime,
Performed for eons,
Repeatedly,
I see the fabric of time,
Discovered by roosters unwittingly.