New stanzas to Augusta, VIII, IX

                "Новые стансы к Августе"
                (Иосиф Бродский)




                VIII
It's like I'm really not here, I'm where
on the sidelines, I'm overboard.
The stubble bulges and rises upward
like a dead body hair,
and on the nest, sprawled in the grass,
full swing beginning to ants fuss.
Nature is dealing with the past, as usual.
But at the same time on its countenance-
being even flooded with sunset radiance -
unwittingly the anger becomes visual.
And with entire the five of senses -
with five - I shove off from the wood:
no, Lord! Inside my eyes the blindness,
and turn into a judge I won't.
But, for my trouble, if
I still will have my qualm,
then, God, chop off my palm
as though Finn to a thief.

                IX
Friend Pollux, here everything merged in one spot.
No moaning will come out of my mouth.
Now here I'm standing in wide open coat,
and flows the world into my eyes across a cloth,
across a cloth of blindfold.
I got cloth ears. I, God, can't see!
Can't hear the words, moon's radiancy
is just in twenty watts. Let be. I can't a path
lay in across the sky by stars and droplets.
Let here the echo carry through the forests
not songs, but cough.