Mozgovoy's prophetic poem-epigraph

Even with few books of my own poems in Czech, I am not sure if I am qualified, but having read Alexey Mozgovoy's own farewell poem, I had to try.

I had to try to render in English (non my native tongue) at least the last very powerful and moving verses of Alexey Mozgovoy's poem on his own death and its meaning--that of our common life and awakening.

With thanks I borrowed much of the last verse from Gleb Bazov's translation.

After I overcome my own tears, I might then perhaps try to translate the poem as a whole:

Don’t place a cross above me

Among birches’ leaves so young

That long to whisper to you the living

For it is life which they’ve just reached.

And the grass is neither gray nor sad

For everything is only just awakening,

And so, truly, it is good to die in May

When, in the green Spring, one can stay.

And though I could not finish all I want,

I do not waver and cannot doubt

That it is a gift to live and die in May.

...

Пусть даже крест там не стоит,

Среди берёзок утомленных.

 Под шелест листьев молодых,

Что только к жизни потянулись.

Пока ещё нет трав седых,

А только, только всё проснулось.

 Не плохо в мае умереть…

Остаться в свежести весенней.

И хоть не смог я всё успеть,

Но не осталось уж сомнений…

Не плохо, в мае умереть…