The pain appeared to be relentless:
The night was burning low outside;
She wrung her arms like she was senseless,
And they would shimmer in the light.
The meaningless life, nearly ending,
Continued to torture and scold;
As thought a ghost that was ascending,
The day revealed the domes of gold;
The passersby seemed few at first,
But now their footsteps multiplied;
And in gray puddles, rings dispersed,
As drops of rain fell from the sky;
The morning lingered and dissolved...
My burdens clouded everything;
And sadly, nothing was resolved
By the deluge of tears in spring.
Я помню длительные муки:
Ночь догорала за окном;
Её заломленные руки
Чуть брезжили в луче дневном.
Вся жизнь, ненужно изжитая,
Пытала, унижала, жгла;
А там, как призрак возрастая,
День обозначил купола;
И под окошком участились
Прохожих быстрые шаги;
И в серых лужах расходились
Под каплями дождя круги;
И утро длилось, длилось, длилось...
И праздный тяготил вопрос;
И ничего не разрешилось
Весенним ливнем бурных слёз.
«The evening at the desk, in peace, / The page is white beyond repair. / Mimosa smells of warmth and Nice / A large bird flies in moonlit glare. / And, plaiting my braids for the night, / As if I must wear them tomorrow, / I stare at the sandbars outside / And the sea, no longer in sorr...»
«In my long dark braids interwoven / Is a delicate silvery strand, — / Voiceless nightingale, such torment, / Only you could understand. You hear everything around you, / Ruffled, breathless, gazing straight / At the willow’s fronds — astounded, / If a stranger’s song is played....»
«"Sister, I have come to take your place, / In the forest, by the fire’s blaze. Your hair grew gray. Over the years, / Your eyes were dulled and fogged by tears. You don’t grasp the bird song from afar. / You don’t see the summer lightning or the stars. Your tambourine no longer plays ...»
«I know, I know — the skis will soon / Again crunch on the snow. / Up in the sky, an orange moon, / And charming slopes below. The palace windows are all bright, / In quietness set back. / No trails and no roads in sight, / Just ice holes shining black. Tree of mermaids, do not welter...»