Saturday, January 2, 2016

Aleksey Mozgovoy's Poem No. 43 (The Famous One--He called it philosophical)

To die in May is not bad at all,
It helps the gravedigger’s job.
One might then hear nightingales
Breeze their last glorious song

Under the tap of the year’s first storm
Instead of gloomy funeral sobs …
Instead of cries, a rain will be spilled,
Cleaning the mourning of your soul.

Under the blanket of the steppe grass
A mound will extend its kind welcome.
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.

Aleksey Mozgovoy started posting his poems on May 30 and between May 30, 2013, and June 18, 2013, he posted 41 of his poems—more than two thirds of the total of 57 poems of his, which he published. This very poem was posted on June 1, 2013 as his 16th poem to be published and one of the sixth he posted on that day.


Не плохо в мае умереть,
Могильщику копать удобно.
И соловьи всё будут петь,
В последний раз, так бесподобно. 

Под грохот первых майских гроз,
Вместо унылых отпеваний...
И дождь, прольётся вместо слёз,
Он смоет грусть воспоминаний. 

Могильный холмик приютит, 
Под покрывалом трав зелёных.
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...

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