Boris Ryzhy, "The Musician and the Angel"
THE MUSICIAN AND THE ANGEL
In the little old square a musician plays -
his face is pale, he wears a black necktie.
Sitting on a bench I listen to him.
There is nobody else in the old square,
only pigeons, clustering about my legs,
and a blue-eyed angel soars above.
. . . And, oh, the more the music haunts and terrifies,
the more the winged one softly smiles . . .
BORIS RYZHY
Translated from the Russian by Sasha Dugdale
In the little old square a musician plays -
his face is pale, he wears a black necktie.
Sitting on a bench I listen to him.
There is nobody else in the old square,
only pigeons, clustering about my legs,
and a blue-eyed angel soars above.
. . . And, oh, the more the music haunts and terrifies,
the more the winged one softly smiles . . .
BORIS RYZHY
Translated from the Russian by Sasha Dugdale