Ah, why do your eyes occasionally
Gaze at me so severely
And why torture my soul with distress
From your cold, unaffectionate gaze,
From your cold, unaffectionate gaze?
Without a smile and in proud silence
You go like a shadow before me,
And, in spirit, having concealed the suffering,
I jealously follow after you.
Jealously follow after you.
You with your love brighten
As in spring my sad days.
Caress me, as you used to,
Drive away my grief with affection.
Caress me, as you used to,
Drive away my grief with affection.
Why do your eyes occasionally
Gaze at me so severely, so severely?
Ах, зачем твои глазки порою
На меня так сурово глядят
И томит мою душу тоскою
Твой холодный, неласковый взгляд,
Твой холодный, неласковый взгляд?
Без улыбки и в гордом молчаньи
Ты проходишь как тень предо мною,
И, в душе затаивши страданье,
Я ревниво слежу за тобою,
Ревниво слежу за тобою.
Ты любовью своей озаряла,
Как весной, мои грустные дни.
Приласкай же меня, как бывало,
Лаской прочь мою грусть отгони.
Приласкай же меня, как бывало,
Лаской прочь мою грусть отгони.
Зачем же твои глазки порою
На меня так сурово, так сурово глядят.
«Inept and aimless is my time: / I ask a beggar for a dime / I proffer cash to rich and famous, Into the needle ray I weave, / Unto a robber key I give, / With whiting I am blushing paleness. The bum puts nothing in my palms, / The rich man does not take my alms, / The needle won't let ...»
«Who didn't build homes with his hand / Does not merit the land. Who the homes did not build / The earth will not be: / Ash — Straw... I did not build the home.»
«Cradle, that is wound up in red! / Cradle, that is rocked by the rabble! / Soldiers' thunder — by the evening — past the temples.. / And beautiful grows up the kid. With the milk of Ryazan's wet nurse / He sucked in inheritance's goods: / Flag — and the tri-unity of God. / Russ...»
«I don't disturb, I do not sing / With a woman's poison. Hand / That is loyal I give to you — / Right one, that will hold the pen. That, with which I form the cross / In the beauty of the night. / That, with which the things that God / Did command to me I write. My left hand is daring...»