In the days of my youth she was fond of me,
And the seven-stemmed flute she handed me.
To me with smile she listened; and already gently
Along the openings echoing of the woods
Was playing I with fingers tender:
Both hymns solemn, god-inspired
And peaceful song of Phrygian shepherd.
From morn till night in oak's dumb shadow
To the strange maid's teaching intent I listened;
And with sparing reward me gladdening
Tossing back her curls from her forehead dear,
From my hands the flute herself she took.
Now filled the wood was with breath divine
And the heart with holy enchantment filled.
В младенчестве моем она меня любила
И семиствольную цевницу мне вручила.
Она внимала мне с улыбкой — и слегка,
По звонким скважинам пустого тростника,
Уже наигрывал я слабыми перстами
И гимны важные, внушенные богами,
И песни мирные фригийских пастухов.
С утра до вечера в немой тени дубов
Прилежно я внимал урокам девы тайной,
И, радуя меня наградою случайной,
Откинув локоны от милого чела,
Сама из рук моих свирель она брала.
Тростник был оживлен божественным дыханьем
И сердце наполнял святым очарованьем.
«1. Your name — a bird in hand, / Your name — an icicle in the language. / One single motion of lips. / Your name — five letters. / A ball caught on the fly, / Silver jingles in your mouth. / A stone thrown into a quiet pond, / No sigh, like your name. / At night the light cl...»
«5. In my Moscow — domes glow! / In my Moscow — bells chime! / And the tombs are aligned, / Where Tsarinas sleep, and Tsars. And you do not know, that at dawn in the Kremlin / Breathing is easier — than on all earth! / And you do not know that at dawn in the Kremlin / I pray to ...»
«6. They thought — just a man! / And forced him to die. / He is dead now. Forever. / — Weep for the dead angel! Before the fall of night / He sang the beauty of the evening. / Three wax lights / Trembling, superstitiously. They took away his radiance — / Hot strings on the sno...»
«Past night towers / Across squares we hurry. / Oh, how terrifying is this night, / The shouts of young soldiers! Shots, the pounding heart! / A hot kiss, love! / Oh, the brutal shouts! / Provocative — oh — blood! My mouth ungracefully, / Curses, despite its sweet — look. / ...»