The English Rendition Out Of Maria Petrovych

By Maria Petrovych

The English Poetic Translation by Anna Polibina-Polansky

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Oh rhymes, oh the rhythmics, ou come up - wherefrom?

The buzzing of bumble-bees cannot be wrong.

I speak, like all dizzy and tipsy, of things.

The vain life, the sore life - oh what does it bring?

I'm sick of it. Moralties simple, are right.

I meant to speak of other things, all at sight.

The path goes on, like a numbing alert.

Oh, I am all ears; my soul is hurt.

So you recollect minor things, in advance.

Your memory cannot get cured, with a glance.

So live the day, out and through; on do prance.

1968/tr. 2020