The city sleeps, wrapped in the haze,
The streetlamps barely glimmer...
And I can see the morning rays
Beyond the Neva, start to shimmer.
This distant and opaque reflection,
This gleam of the awaking blaze
Conceals the nearing resurrection
Of dreary, melancholy days...
Город спит, окутан мглою,
Чуть мерцают фонари...
Там, далёко за Невою,
Вижу отблески зари.
В этом дальнем отраженьи,
В этих отблесках огня
Притаилось пробужденье
Дней тоскливых для меня...
«After the wind and the frost in the yard, / It was nice to have the fire warm me. / But I’ve failed to watch my heart / And here it was taken from me. The lavish New Year’s party won’t adjourn, / Moist stems of roses catch the eyes, / But, in my chest, one can no more discern / Th...»
«...By the staircase, outside, / No one greeted me. On my own, / In the moon’s unfaithful light, / I entered the quiet home. Beneath the lamp’s green halo, / With a lifeless smile, / He whispered, “Cinderella, / Your voice is so full of guile...” The hearth is fading to embers, ...»
«Imagination with submission / Depicts those cold grey eyes to me. / In Tver’s seclusion, I envision / And think about you bitterly. A beauty’s captive, you are merry / There on the Neva’s distant shore. / My prominent contemporary, / You got what you’ve been asking for, You ord...»
«...In the gloom of the trees, hidden from view, / Someone rustled the leaves and begun: / “What has your lover done to you, / What has your lover done; Your eyelids are heavy as if outlined / In the India Ink, dark and gruff. / In stifling torment, he left you behind / In the hands of...»