Run-down and worn from daily rambles
I will forsake the bustling whims
To bring to mind the sores of troubles
And stir the former, bygone dreams...
If only I could breathe instilling
The joy of spring into her soul!
Oh no, I do not aim at killing
Her childish idleness at all!
I'd better keep my soul from striving
To her unearthly heights, alas,
Where happiness appears shining,
But it is not designed for us.
Усталый от дневных блужданий
Уйду порой от суеты
Воспомнить язвы тех страданий,
Встревожить прежние мечты...
Когда б я мог дохнуть ей в душу
Весенним счастьем в зимний день!
О нет, зачем, зачем разрушу
Ее младенческую лень?
Довольно мне нестись душою
К ее небесным высотам,
Где счастье брежжит нам порою,
Но предназначено не нам.
«The black road was winding slowly, / And a drizzle started, / Someone asked if they could walk me / Home, before we parted. / I accepted, still afraid to / Look at him at all, / It became so strange, days later, / To recall that stroll. / Fog was spreading out like incense / From a...»
«How I love, how I loved to gaze endlessly / On the ironclad shores up ahead, / On the balconies, where for centuries, / Not a foot of a person was set. / You’re the capital — truly, forever, / For the mad and the bright ones, like us, / But, at the time, when over the Neva, / That ...»
«Here, human voice was never known / And never will it resonate, / And gusting from the age of stone, / The wind alone knocks on the gate. / It seems to me, that I was saved / And no one else here by design, — / Because I was the first who craved / And sought to taste the deadly wine.»
«The road of the seaside garden turns dark, / The streetlamps are yellow and prim. / And I’m very calm. But don’t you remark / And talk to me of him. / My dear and loyal one, we will be friends… / Be merry, and kiss, and grow wise… / And moons will soar lightly over our heads, / ...»