Once again the storm-clouds hover
In the silence over me;
Jealous Fate again hangs over,
Menacing my misery.
Shall I face my Fate, disdaining?
Shall I bear it and display
All the patience uncomplaining
That was mine in youth’s proud day?
Tossed by stormy life and driven.
Careless of this storm I wait;
Maybe I shall find a haven
To protect me from my Fate. . . .
But to part — my fear foretold it!
That dread hour we cannot flee.
Let me take your hand and hold it;
For the last time give it me.
Kind and quiet Angel, hear me;
Speak to me with soft good-byes.
You have been somournful. Near me
Let your sweet face fall or rise.
The remembrance of your caring
More than compensation pays
For the strength and pride and daring
And the hope of youthful days.
Снова тучи надо мною
Собралися в тишине;
Рок завистливый бедою
Угрожает снова мне...
Сохраню ль к судьбе презренье?
Понесу ль навстречу ей
Непреклонность и терпенье
Гордой юности моей?
Бурной жизнью утомленный,
Равнодушно бури жду:
Может быть, еще спасенный,
Снова пристань я найду...
Но, предчувствуя разлуку,
Неизбежный, грозный час,
Сжать твою, мой ангел, руку
Я спешу в последний раз.
Ангел кроткий, безмятежный,
Тихо молви мне: прости,
Опечалься: взор свой нежный
Подыми иль опусти;
И твое воспоминанье
Заменит душе моей
Силу, гордость, упованье
И отвагу юных дней.
«Darkness has curtained my cheerless world, / Quiet as under the sea / Lady Majestic, here at my door? / Something I couldn’t foresee! The electricity here is dim, / Ceiling is dripping with tears. / Lady Majestic, well, all the same, / How did you venture in here? Oh, your arrival’...»
«When blizzards utter beastly roars, / Disgruntled and relentless, / Do not attempt to shut your doors, / Unlock your dwelling's entrance. If for a long and distant roam / You're summoned by an omen, / Do not forget to leave your home / Unlocked, and doors wide open. And on the night ...»
«You won't chase me away anytime: / They don't push away the spring! / With a finger you won't push me away: / I too tenderly sing before sleep! Never will you make me glorious: / Water for lips is my name! / You will never leave me either: / Door is open, empty is your home!»
«To rule troika and guitar / Means: to rule each over / Woman, means: with old beer / To circle overhead! / O handsome one! Halfbreed! / Who baptized you? In what font? / All the gypsy snowstorms / Opened up your vest / O the brave guitarist! / Eh, I fear - your strings and hollows...»