In the darkness and still of a mysterious night
I see a fond and welcoming spark,
From the chorus of spheres, familiar eyes
Shine upon a grave forgotten in the steppe.
The grass has faded, the desert is grim,
A lonely tomb dreams an orphan's dream,
And only in the sky, like an eternal idea,
The stars' golden eyelashes sparkle.
And I dream you've risen from the dead,
Unchanged since you departed the earth,
And I dream a dream: we both are young,
And you've looked at me as you did back then.
В тиши и мраке таинственной ночи
Я вижу блеск приветный и милой,
И в звездном хоре знакомые очи
Горят в степи над забытой могилой.
Трава поблекла, пустыня угрюма,
И сон сиротлив одинокой гробницы,
И только в небе, как вечная дума,
Сверкают звезд золотые ресницы.
И снится мне, что ты встала из гроба,
Такой же, какой ты с земли отлетела,
И снится, снится: мы молоды оба,
И ты взглянула, как прежде глядела.
«So many stones are thrown at me, / They no longer scare. / Fine, now, is the snare, / Among high towers a high tower. / I thank its builders: may / They never need a friend. / Here I can see the sun rise earlier / And see the glory of the day’s end. / And often into the window of m...»
«How can you look at the Neva, / Stand on bridges just the same?.. / No wonder I’ve borne signs of grieving / Since the night your image came. / / Sharp are the black angels’ wings, / Soon the judgement of the dead, / And street bonfires blazing red / Like roses in snow are flowe...»
«The road is black by the beach — Garden. Lamps yellow and fresh. I’m very calm. I’d rather not talk about him. I’ve a lot of feelings for you. You’re kind. We’ll kiss, grow old, walk around. Light months will fly over us. Like snowy stars.»
«For O. A. Kuzmina-Karavaeva / / ‘If we could only reach the shore, / My dear!’ — ‘Sh! Be quiet!’… / And we started down the stairs, / Hardly breathing, searching for keys. / / Past the house where we had once / Danced and drunk wine, / Past the Senate’s white column...»