Rose-maiden, no, I do not quarrel
With these dear chains, they don't demean;
The nightingale embushed in laurel,
The sylvan singers' feathered queen,
Does she not bear the same sweet plight,
Near the proud rose's beauty dwelling,
And with her tender anthems thrilling
The dusk of a voluptuous night.
О дева-роза, я в оковах;
Но не стыжусь твоих оков:
Так соловей в кустах лавровых,
Пернатый царь лесных певцов,
Близ розы гордой и прекрасной
В неволе сладостной живёт
И нежно песни ей поёт
Во мраке ночи сладострастной.
«It happened in the early spring. / The grass was scarcely seen, / The brooks ran, the heat had not set in. / And the grove was scattered with green. The shepherd's horn at early dawn / Did not yet sound calling, / And in the pine forest, the fern / Was still soft and curved. It happene...»
«By chance, at a turbulent ball. / Amid the excitement and vanity, / I caught sight of you but some mystery / Had veiled your face from me. Your eyes had been full of sadness, / And your voice had an enchanting sound, / Like the sound of a pipe in the distance, / Like a sportful wave on ...»
«Whispering, timid, softly breathing, / trills the nightingale. / Silver brooklet, lazy weaving, / ripples through the vale. Flickering visions, gleams of beauty, / fantasies of grace; / Magic changes gone, returning, / light a loving face. Purple shadows smoothly stealing, / creep ac...»
«So little and so dainty and slender, / Around with me whirling she flies; / So warm are her hands and so tender, / So warm are the stars in her eyes. And yesterday noon, ah, I saw her, / With her red cheeks all ashen and grey; / Asleep and enshrouded in velvet, / They took her and bore ...»