Above the forest, field and meadow,
Above the land and water flow
So fresh, congenial and mellow,
You turn up everywhere I go.
Your waist under the summer cloud,
Your waist, wrapped up in fur, I praise,
I sing and laud it out loud,
Enveloped in poetic haze.
Through years and streams, imparting wisdom,
Upon the cross, and when I'm tight,
My friend, my dear child of freedom,
I love you, dearly, my light.
Везде — над лесом и над пашней,
И на земле, и на воде —
Такою близкой и вчерашней
Ты мне являешься — везде.
Твой стан под душной летней тучей
Твой стан, закутанный в меха,
Всегда пою — всегда певучий,
Клубясь туманами стиха.
И через годы, через воды,
И на кресте и во хмелю,
Тебя, Дитя моей свободы,
Подруга Светлая, люблю.
«Amid the worlds, in twinkling of the stars / There’s the One, whose name I always utter… / ‘Tis not because I love Her with my heart, / But rather because languish I with others. And if my doubt is hard in all its might, / ‘Tis She alone, whom always I inquire, / ‘Tis not becaus...»
«(To my friend, S. K. Bulich) Select a dark night and in a field, unpeopled, naked, / dip into gray twilight.... May the air, having fanned, becalm, / May the stars, winking, in the cold sky slumber on.... / Tell the heart not to count its thumps.... / Stop in mid-step and listen! You're no...»
«Sad and made of copper / The symbol we are wed, / Even our comedies / End a little sadly…. / Our joyful neighbors / Wear their infernal / Hirsute fur coats…. / And that only… banal / Are our mangy bears / With prey trembling / In blood-covered lips.»
«For what purpose, when dreams betray, / That words brim over with delusions? / For what purpose, on a forgotten grave, / Grass grows greener and emits a noise? For what purpose these lunar heights, / If my garden is silent and dark? / And the tails of her plaits are untied, / And I hear...»