POET’S
PROFESSION
Such is the law, so it was believed for ages.
The rock does not fly to meet the eagle.
The profession does not find the man,
But man comes to the profession
The
profession only sharpens the line.
Among
the other existing professions
Profession
of Poetry is the only one
Which
does not submit to general laws.
And
why, my friend, from remote Sultry Summer
Setting
out on the way, from the village...
Did
you not choose the poet’s profession?
A
profession already in your vein.
It
is with you,–in tarring the bark,
Swimming
with you, falcon of the caspian waves
Together
with you in Ashkabad Park–
Songs
met in the early spring.
Poetry
to you is no jest:
Poetry
becomes fire with you,
And
this was powerfully displayed...
Profession
for long time
And
in maturity.
Such
is the law, so it was believed for ages.
The
rock does not fly to meet the eagle;
Profession
does not find the man:
Man
himself arrives at the profession
But
on your birthday in the KIBITKA,
When
your mother sat by the wall:
Poetry
weaving a carpet from the Sun
Softly
arrived to adopt you.
Translated
from Russian
by
G. K. G. JOSHI