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!
«A loved one makes her demands at will! / But she who’s unloved has no say. / How happy I feel that the water grows still / Under the ice today. And I shall tread — with Christ beside me! — / On this shroud, so fragile and light. / So our descendants can judge us rightly, / Keep my...»
«We met there for the final time again / On the embankment, where we’d always go. / There was high water on the Neva then, / And all were scared that it may overflow He spoke about the summer and he said / A woman and a poet — too bizarre. / I still recall the Fortress overhead, / An...»
«Hi! Did you hear me rustle slightly / By your desk, just to the right? / You won’t finish what you’re writing — / I have come to you tonight. / Will you hurt me now by chance, / Like you did that time — / Saying that you don’t see hands, / These hands and eyes of mine. / Yo...»
«Armed with wasp-vision, with the vision of wasps / that suck, suck, suck the earth's axis, / I'm filled by the whole deep vein of my life / and hold it here in my heart and in vain. And I don't draw, don't sing, / don't draw a black-voiced bow over strings: / I only drink, drink, drink in...»