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...
«Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. / Genesis Holy Lot was a-going behind God's angel, / He seemed huge and bright on a hill, huge and black. / But the heart of his wife whispered stronger and stranger: / "It's not very late, you have time to look back / At these ...»
«Many items, maybe, will be proud / To be sung by my poetic voice: / That is, wordless, roaring around, / Or eroding stones underground, / Or forcing its way through smoke’s coils. / And I want to take into account / Fire, wind and water, so far… / That is why my dreams, as I have ...»
«I was not here for hundreds years, / But nothing changed for ages here… / In the same way the divine lyre / Pours bliss from the eternal crests. Same are the waters and stars’ throngs, / And endless bleakness of skies’ domes, / And flying seeds in airy flows, / And mothers sing th...»
«When, in the night, I wait for her, impatient, / Life seems to me, as hanging by a thread. / What just means liberty, or youth, or approbation, / When compared with the gentle piper's tread? And she came in, threw out the mantle's edges, / Declined to me with a sincere heed. / I say to he...»