Whispering, timid, softly breathing,
trills the nightingale.
Silver brooklet, lazy weaving,
ripples through the vale.
Flickering visions, gleams of beauty,
fantasies of grace;
Magic changes gone, returning,
light a loving face.
Purple shadows smoothly stealing,
creep accross the lawn,
Tears and laughter, sighs and kisses,
and the dawn, the dawn!
Шёпот, робкое дыханье,
Трели соловья,
Серебро и колыханье
Сонного ручья,
Свет ночной, ночные тени,
Тени без конца,
Ряд волшебных изменений
Милого лица,
В дымных тучках пурпур розы,
Отблеск янтаря,
И лобзания, и слёзы,
И заря, заря!..
«"How luxury of these wares and robes and lace / Is loathsome to me in my disgrace" / "In the stone Troezene / A famous sorrow will be / Stairs in the king's name / Will grow red from shame / Black sun will rise above / A mother in love" / "Oh if the hatred only in my chest had boiled...»
«1 A word of peace, rejected, stands / At start of an insulted era; / There's light inside a darkened cavern / And ether of the foreign lands; / Ether, of which we just could not, / Of which to breathe we did not want; / With voice of goats, deep and gaunt, / Priests are singing, hairy...»
«In multitude of choir polyhymnal / All tender churches sing in their own voice / And the stone vaults of the Dormition cathedral / Like eyebrows in still higher arch rejoice. And from the rampart fortified by the archangels / I watched the city from a wondrous height / In the Acropolis sa...»
«Upon a horse-sleigh laid to brim with straw / And covered barely with hides and birch, / We rode around the lumbering Moscow / From Sparrow Hills to a familiar church. On Uglich street the kids are playing babki / And from a stove exudes bread's sweet smell / Through street without a hat ...»