Andrei Voznesensky Poems

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Sailor, my dear, my heaven-made spouse!
There is one thing that I beg of you, man:
Kiss any strangers, and give them your flowers,
love many women. But, pray, don't love one.


These are the words that I send with my letter,
piercing land after land they will moan;
stay there as long as you wish, and you'd better
love all the countries, but, pray, don't love one.


Give me a whistle -- when tired of roving.
Held in sweet bondage, or about to drown,
play with your life as you wish, when you're roaming,
but don't ruin ours because it is one.


© Copyright Alec Vagapov's translation

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