When you were reading those tormented lines
In which the heart's resonant flame sends out glowing streams
And passion's fatal torrents rear up, —
Didn't you recall a single thing?
I can't believe it! That night on the steppe
When, in the midnight mist a premature dawn,
Transparent, lovely as a miracle,
Broke in the distance before you
And your unwilling eye was to this beauty drawn
To that majestic glow beyond the realm of darkness, —
How could it be that nothing whispered to you then:
A man has perished in that fire!
Когда читала ты мучительные строки,
Где сердца звучный пыл сиянье льёт кругом
И страсти роковой вздымаются потоки, —
Не вспомнила ль о чём?
Я верить не хочу! Когда в степи, как диво,
В полночной темноте безвременно горя,
Вдали перед тобой прозрачно и красиво
Вставала вдруг заря.
И в эту красоту невольно взор тянуло,
В тот величавый блеск за тёмный весь предел, —
Ужель ничто тебе в то время не шепнуло:
«Там человек сгорел!»
«Yesterday reflecting upon death, / My soul suddenly grew bitter. / Sad day! Age-old nature / Gazed at me from the forest's depths. And the anguish of separation / Pierced my heart, and in that moment / I could hear all — the evening grass, / The water talking, and the stone's dead cry...»
«How the world changes! And how I change as well! / I am known by one name only, yet / That which is named by me / Is not I alone. We are many. I am a living being. / So that the blood should not freeze in my veins, / I died many times. Oh, how many dead bodies / Have I raised from my own...»
«Again the crystal dreamstruck vessel / Flashed in the darkness of the wood. Past battling trees and quarrelling wolves, / Where insects drink the sap of plants, / Where stems writhe and flowers moan, / Where predatory nature disposes, / I pressed on towards you, halting upon / Your thre...»
«In this birch grove, / Far removed from trouble and pain, / Where the pink, unwavering light / Of morning pulsates in the heavens, / Where a limpid avalanche / Of leaves pours from on high, / Oriole, sing me a desolate song, / The song of my life. Flying above the glade, / Spying pe...»