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.
«The wondrous moment of our meeting… / I well remember you appear / Before me like a vision fleeting, / A beauty’s angel pure and clear. In hopeless ennui surrounding / The worldly bustle, to my ear / For long your tender voice kept sounding, / For long in dreams came features dear. ...»
«I knew you were dreaming of me, / that’s why I couldn’t get to sleep. / The murky lamp hazed blue / and showed me the road. You saw the Tsaritsa’s garden, / the intricate white palace, / the black tracery of the fences / by the echoing stone steps. You walked, not knowing the wa...»
«I will return as grass in spring, / I'll try to reach you, germinating, / As buds reach forward to the green / When they are waiting to awaken. To start the blossoming anew / One morning, secretly and shyly, / Already sparkling with the dew, / That dries away if sun is shining. The sun...»
«How many birch trees did you see in this world? / It’s likely — just two, maybe three, / All trimmed with the silver of first winter cold / Or dressed in the green veil of spring Or, maybe, in summer you’d come back at home, / And sunlight would fill all your place, / And through op...»