The evening shades have yet to sink,
But moonlight’s shining in the lake.
The heart, the soul — and everything
Feels superstitious and opaque...
This superstition leads to yearning,
And in the mist that glows opaque,
Foreseeing bliss, the heart is burning,
The pale moon shines in the lake...
Somebody’s whispering and singing,
And barely breathing, I await, —
I’m sensing greatness in this gleaming,
I’ve lost the greatness, I’m afraid...
And now, without a hesitation,
As evening shades sink in the haze,
I recollect the inspirations
Of superstitious bygone days...
Не легли еще тени вечерние,
А луна уж блестит на воде.
Всё туманнее, всё суевернее
На душе и на сердце — везде...
Суеверье рождает желания,
И в туманном и чистом везде
Чует сердце блаженство свидания,
Бледный месяц блестит на воде...
Кто-то шепчет, поет и любуется,
Я дыханье мое затаил, —
В этом блеске великое чуется,
Но великое я пережил...
И теперь лишь, как тени вечерние
Начинают ложиться смелей,
Возникают на миг суевернее
Вдохновенья обманутых дней...
«Don’t, silly heart, get excited! / Happiness tricks every one of us, / Only the poor beg for some of it... / Don’t, silly heart, get excited. Smoothly the moon’s yellow charms / Flood over flowering chestnuts. / Bending to Lala’s shalwars, / Under her veil I shall shelter. / D...»
«Land to which blue hues and joy belong, / I have sold my honour for a song. / Fresh sea wind, more softly, gently blow / Hear, the nightingale calls to the rose. Look, the rose bestirs herself, she nods — / It’s the song to which her heart responds. / Fresh sea wind, more softly, gent...»
«Indescribable blueness and gentleness... / Land so calm after thunder and gale. / In my heart, like a plain that is endless, / Scent of honey and rose I inhale. I am hushed. Time has done what it had to. / But no cUrses I heap on the past. / It’s as if through the country a frantic / ...»
«The disquiet of vaporous moonshine, / The heartache of plains without end — / In youth these aroused that confusion / Where loathing with love would contend. The dry willows lining the highway. / The waggon wheels’ long-drawn refrain... / For nothing on earth would I like now / To h...»