Я открываю дверь в сад.

Снаружи еще светит солнце.

По дороге идет ребенок.

По дороге он потерял свою тень.

Руки деревьев двигаются.

Ворона говорит человеческим голосом.

И твоя голова плачет одна, лежа на столе.



 

I open the door to the garden.

The sun is still shining outside.

A child walks along the road.

On the way, he has lost his shadow.

The arms of the trees are moving.

The crow speaks with a human voice.

And your head is crying alone, lying on the table.

Сегодня мы не пойдем дальше.

Берег моря.

Вдалеке одинокая лодка.

Я иногда думаю о тебе

Без причины.

Снова на путь, 

Я иду домой.

Окна закрыты,

Здесь больше никто не живет.

Дует ветер и сметает ночь с дороги.


 

We will not go further away today.

The sea shore.

A lonely boat is in the distance.

I sometimes think about you

Without any reasons.

Back on the path

I return home.

The windows are closed, 

No one else lives here.

The wind blows and  lifts the night from the road.

Моя тень на моей спине

Тяжелее, чем мешок, полный камней.

Путь идет сам по себе.

Деревья ловят птиц.

Как в акварельном рисунке, 

Природа зеленая и синяя, 

И тишина идет с ней.


 

My shadow is on my back

Heavier than a bag full of stones.

The path goes away by itself.

The trees catch the birds .

As in a watercolor drawing,

Nature is green and blue,

And silence is walking with her.

Ivan.jpg

Ivan de Monbrison is a poet, novelist and artist born in 1969 in Paris. He has studied oriental languages in Paris, and then worked for the Picasso Museum, before dedicating himself to his own creativity. He has been published in literary magazines globally. His last poetry book in English and Russian без лица/Faceless has just been released in Canada. He does not believe that his art is of any real significance, he does it as some kind of a tribal ritual, he is fully aware that vanity is one of the worst enemies of most poets and artists, and tries to stay away from it as much as possible.