to S. Solovyov
Obscure daily shadows run about.
The sound of the bells is clear and high.
The stairs of the church are shining out,
Alive, they're waiting for you to come by.
As you step in you'll touch a boulder, faintly,
Clad in the gruesome virtue of the past,
Perchance, you"ll drop an April flower gently
Amidst the prudent icons, in the dusk...
The rosy shadows run, obscure and scarce,
The sound of the bells is clear and high,
Dark mist is falling on the aged stairs...
I'm waiting for your footsteps to come by.
С. Соловьеву
Бегут неверные дневные тени.
Высок и внятен колокольный зов.
Озарены церковные ступени,
Их камень жив — и ждет твоих шагов.
Ты здесь пройдешь, холодный камень тронешь,
Одетый страшной святостью веков,
И, может быть, цветок весны уронишь
Здесь, в этой мгле, у строгих образов.
Растут невнятно розовые тени,
Высок и внятен колокольный зов,
Ложится мгла на старые ступени...
Я озарен — я жду твоих шагов.
«We've still got some time left to mend it: / A whole quarter left, nothing less, — / To mend and unbend and defend it, / Reinstitute plebs and noblesse. / / But I'd rather not have another. / I carved my own way in this one, / And if I could do it all over, / I'd do what I've alre...»
«I think of the dawn of your glory, / Of the dawn of your days, / When you awoke from sleep as a demon / And a god for mankind. / / I think of the way your brows / Were knitted above the torches that were your eyes, / And of the ancient blood that, like lava, / Flowed inside your vei...»
«I like that you are not in love with me / And that I do not burn with lust for you; / We have no need to fear that suddenly / The earth may cave in underneath our shoes. / I like that I can in your presence be / Relaxed and silly, and not try to charm, / And not flush red with ardent mod...»
«I remember you but on occasion, / And your fate does not keep me in thrall, / Yet the time when I made your acquaintance / Leaves a durable trace on my soul. / / I walk quickly when passing your house, / That red house where the grim river runs, / But I know I unsettle somehow / You...»