The winter day is cold and snowy,
White is the harbor, hard the ground.
A heavy liner, outward bound,
Is moving carefully and slowly.
One yellow solitary lamp
Sways in the wind its ghostly halo,
The outlines of the crane and silo
Are blacker than the sky, and damp.
Look how that sailor, left behind,
Reels in the snow along the shore.
All drunk away, gone with the wind!
Enough, I cannot anymore...
Fresh flakes have fallen, cold and light.
The empty harbor is snowed under.
Say, sailor, is it sweet to slumber,
Cloaked in your shroud, so gentle and so white?
Поздней осенью из гавани
От заметённой снегом земли
В предназначенное плаванье
Идут тяжелые корабли.
В чёрном небе означается
Над водой подъемный кран,
И один фонарь качается
На оснежённом берегу.
И матрос, на борт не принятый,
Идёт, шатаясь, сквозь буран.
Всё потеряно, всё выпито!
Довольно — больше не могу…
А берег опустелой гавани
Уж первый лёгкий снег занёс…
В самом чистом, в самом нежном саване
Сладко ли спать тебе, матрос?
«If death is night, if life is day – / Oh, how the motley day drains me! / And shadows grow above me dense, / My head bowing low toward sleep... Made powerless, I surrender to it... / But through the mute dark flash fantasies – / Somewhere, above, there a clear day sparkles / And an ...»
«He's taken all from me, executioner God. / Health, strength of will, the air, and sleep. / Only one thing did he leave me, and that / Is you, that I may continue to praise him.»
«Now the golden leafage is beggared. / Shining through the porches of autumn, / Shows the cool blue stillness of heaven. / Lo, the thin-trunked grove is transcended: / Carved in stone, a columned cathedral. / Smoke-scrolls wind about the frail friezes; / Flung above the doors is a curtain...»
«We live just as in a dream impenetrable / on one of the comfortable planets... / There are so many things we don't need, / and that which we want doesn't exist.»