Hymn to beauty

N. Zabolotsky

Kissed, bewitched,
Once married with the wind in the field,
All of you, as if in chains,
My precious woman!
Not funny, not sad,
As if descended from a dark sky,
You and my wedding song
And my star is crazy.
I'll bend over your knees
I will embrace them with fierce strength,
And tears and poems
I will burn you, bitter, dear.
Open my midnight face
Let me enter these heavy eyes,
Those black oriental eyebrows
In these hands are your half-naked.
What will increase will not decrease
What will not come true will be forgotten ...
Why are you crying, beauty?
Or is it just my imagination?