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 have got tired of chatting about something bombastic; / All these discussions entail only yawning in me... / Running from pedants for talking with you I am eagerly rushing; / Sure am I, — in your eyes, clear and clever black eyes, / There's more beauty than you find in a hundred o...»
«Once we all used to abide / together with God, side by side, / He didn't dwell in the sky, / we'd see him from time to time / alive, on the mausoleum. / He was much more clever and evil / than that other God, the old one, / known to the world as Jehovah, / whom he overthrew with a cr...»
«February. Get ink and weep! / Burst into sobs — to write and write / of February, while thundering slush / burns like black spring. For half a rouble hire a cab, / ride through chimes and the wheel's cry / to where the drenching rain is black, / louder than tears or ink — where lik...»
«Oh February. To get ink and weep! / To write of February, sob it out, / While slush is blazing through the deep, / Black spring and spreading on the ground. To rent a buggy. For six grivnas, / Amidst the church-bells, clanking wheels, / To steer it where a shower drizzles / Still louder...»