Wild wind batters
Window-panes,
And hinged shutters
Rudely strains.
Hour of Mass on Easter mom,
Bells far distant, bells forlorn,
Deafness, darkness everywhere;
Only guest, a wind in scorn
Batters on the barrier.
Through the window — void and black;
In the darkness footsteps crack.
There the ice-bound flood breaks free.
There a Bride awaits for me.
How to vile sleep not surrender?
How drive off that guest from here?
Not give up my love so tender
To the cursfcd stranger’s care?
How not throw the world away?
Not despair of everything,
If my only guest’s a wind,
Nothing but a wild black wind
On my household battering?
Why, wind, batter
Window-pane?
And hinged shutter
Rudely strain?
Дикий ветер
Стёкла гнёт,
Ставни с петель
Буйно рвёт.
Час заутрени пасхальной,
Звон далёкий, звон печальный,
Глухота и чернота.
Только ветер, гость нахальный,
Потрясает ворота.
За окном черно и пусто,
Ночь полна шагов и хруста,
Там река ломает лёд,
Там меня невеста ждёт…
Как мне скинуть злую дрёму,
Как мне гостя отогнать?
Как мне милую — чужому,
Проклято́му не отдать?
Как не бросить всё на свете,
Не отчаяться во всём,
Если в гости ходит ветер,
Только дикий чёрный ветер,
Сотрясающий мой дом?
Что ж ты, ветер,
Стёкла гнёшь?
Ставни с петель
Дико рвёшь?
«When you played an old Strauss waltz, we, for the first time, / Heard your quiet, distressed call, / Since then, we have been aliens among living beings / And only enjoyed the quick passing of the hours. We, like you, welcomed sunsets, / Hypnotized by the proximity of your end. / On bette...»
«I'm just a girl. My duty / Before the wedding altar is / Not to forget, everywhere are — wolfs / And to remember: I am — a sheep. Dreaming about a golden castle / Shake, turn, jump / At first a doll, and later / No doll, but nearly one. In my hand there is no sword / No singing ...»
«Oh, how many of them fell into this abyss, / Openess far in the distance! / The day will come when I am gone / From the surface of the earth. Stiffen all that singing and struggle, / Shine and burst. / And the green of my eyes, and gentle voice, / And the gold hair. And there is life w...»
«I dedicate these lines to / Those who will arrange my coffin. / When you open my high, / Hated forehead. Changed unnecessarily, / By a crown on my head, — / My own heart alien / Will I lie in the coffin. They will not look at my face: / "I hear all! Can see all! / My being in tha...»