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Arthur Volsky
Arthur Volsky на
Ведах беларускіх

Translated by


The stones we are.

The stones we are.

Not dead but ever-breathing.

Ah God!

I ask you not to pass my sides that turned to grizzle.

They muddled me. Amid the noise.

And soundless.

They treaded me under foot.

From pebbles coursed to pull me they’re ready.

At saints they threw me.

Not in eyes

of numerous Goliaths.

Acoreof a sling was I for most exquisite liars.

Forgive me, I believed a lie, though wasn’t sort of stupid. Condone.

And mercifully lie me in your House’s footing.

style=”position: absolute; top: 0.01in; left: 0.58in”

Or in a wall. In masonry. Forever. And for always. So in the tempests I could be the archive of accordance.

Translated by Tatsiana Sivets.

I want to lie among the rest, not evident to others, alternate in the daylight rays and in the midnight darkness.

Let stones lie tightly and enrich inviolacy across.

Ah God!

Don’t pass me, I beseech!

I am the stone of Yours.



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Collections: Belarusan Lyric poetry