My sweet friend, and in this quiet home,
Beats a fever me, the same.
I can’t find a place in quiet home
By its always peaceful flame!
Voices sing, a blizzard calls, I hear,
Comfort is my cross...
E’en behind your shoulders, oh my dear,
Someone’s eyes wait for me close!
There, behind your shoulders so quiet,
The wings’ tremble I feel,
Pierces me with his look of a fire
The storms’ angel — Israfil!
Милый друг, и в этом тихом доме
Лихорадка бьёт меня.
Не найти мне места в тихом доме
Возле мирного огня!
Голоса поют, взывает вьюга,
Страшен мне уют…
Даже за плечом твоим, подруга,
Чьи-то очи стерегут!
За твоими тихими плечами
Слышу трепет крыл…
Бьёт в меня светящими очами
Ангел бури — Азраил!
«She came towards me, silent like the moonlit night, / With violet-hooded eyes, like inky night was gazing, / Where soft the gentle dewdrops grass-tipped quivered blazing, / She came towards me – perfectly arrayed, just right, / And soft, she breathed, as the insinuating night. The secret ...»
«I'll be yours if you want. Understand if you can / If I like anyone in this world, you're the one. / I'd been cold, pale and feeble before I met you. / Well, I come from the bottom, deep, quiet and blue. No, don't hurry. The moon will be shining for us. / There it is! Can you see it? New mo...»
«To S. L. Kobilinsky The windows steamed up. / In the yard the moon hangs. / And you stand aimlessly / before the window. The wind dies down arguing / with the row of gray birches. / There has been much sorrow... / There have been many tears... Before you arises involuntarily / the ...»
«And water? A moment – clear... / A moment – circles, mottled, fish... / Just so thought! Here she is... / But she is – the depths, / Entered with trepidation.»