Have you attained your shelter in the skies,
Or are you searching for a stone to stumble?
Life flew away, a moment brief and humble,
The scales of judgment weigh your truths and lies.
You wished for silence, yet you spoke aloud.
How good it is that so much is spoken.
Though by a thorny path your fate was broken,
You left us verses that would make us proud.
The Baltic wave was dear to you and near,
But those who ruled the ball were cold and bitter.
Your life was stormed, its judgments sharp and fitter,
Beyond the line your vessel had to steer.
The journey ends, your graveyard is so quiet.
To San Michele I rarely can go.
Does any poet need a golden glow?
Just stars and memory to satisfy his right.
And in the Book of Books, where sounds are weighed,
Especially the ones the poet cried,
Your verse remains a testament and guide,
Out of eternal pain and torture made
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline) - Published: June 16th, 2026 08:09
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is a translation of cognominal work by Larisa Ku'zminskaya, a well-known contemporary Russian poet
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Well done both the original and the translation.
My friend, this is beautiful. There is such reverence throughout the poem...not merely for the person being remembered, but for the enduring power of their words. It feels both mournful and grateful at the same time. Wonderful write. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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