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.
«I cried and cavorted in the spring rain, / But the storm stopped. / You get dull to me, Sergei Esenin, / Lift your eyes up... Beneath sky and trees it’s dull to hear / Your wings’ blind waves: / They can’t unf...»
«It’s nice in the briskness of early autumn / To shake one’s soul like an apple bough / And to watch the sun cut the blue stream / Like the fresh turned furrow of a plow. It’s nice to drive out from one’s body / The white hot song like a new forged nail / As one waits for the gusti...»
«Wind, wind, o snowy wind, / My bygone life I see again. / I’d like to be a boy as blond / And fair as the flowers at the field’s rim. From myself and all this life I’d like / To die while a sheep herder’s horn blows. / In my ears the ringing of cowbells sticks / Drifting through...»
«This gives sense to our human life of pain / In the course of its unmitigated plight. / The sickle cuts the heavy ears of grain, / Just as it cuts the snared swan by the throat. Far back we learned how at break of day / Through the August fields the chill creeps. / Among the scattered she...»