Chinese Journey 10

By Olga Sedakova
Translated by Jena Woodhouse

 Great is the artist, knowing no duty

                      except the duty of the brush at play:

and his brush penetrates the heart of mountains,

                      penetrates the happiness of leaves,

at one stroke, with sheer gentleness,

                      with delight, with mere confusion

he penetrates immortality itself –

                      and immortality toys with him.

But he whom the spirit abandons, from whom

                       they remove the ray of  light,

who for the tenth time in a turbid place

                       gropes for the pure key,

who, fallen out of the hand of miracles, will not say:

                       empty are miracles! –

before him, in reverence,

                       the heavens bow.

Click here to hear Olga Sedakova read this poem read on Lyrikline.org.