So clearly I remember seeing
before my eyes your features dear,
Like some angelic, heav'nly being,
Of charm and beauty without peer.
In throes of sadness without measure,
When woes and tribulations rise,
I hear your voice my dearest treasure,
I dream of your endearing eyes.
Thyears went by, severe and stormy,
And I forgot my youthful choice.
I did not see your eyes before me,
I did not hear your angel voice.
Exiled, alone in my far station
I spend my days in hopeless strife,
With no more joy, no inspiration,
With no more tears, nor love, nor Life.
But time has brought a new decision,
Once more I hold you in my arms,
Once more I see you, heav'nly vision,
A creature of angelic charms.
My heart beats fast in exultation,
And after years of bitter strife,
I find delight and inspiration,
And love, and happiness and life!
Я помню чудное мгновенье:
Передо мной явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.
В томленьях грусти безнадежной,
В тревогах шумной суеты,
Звучал мне долго голос нежный
И снились милые черты.
Шли годы. Бурь порыв мятежный
Рассеял прежние мечты,
И я забыл твой голос нежный,
Твои небесные черты.
В глуши, во мраке заточенья
Тянулись тихо дни мои
Без божества, без вдохновенья,
Без слез, без жизни, без любви.
Душе настало пробужденье:
И вот опять явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.
И сердце бьется в упоенье,
И для него воскресли вновь
И божество, и вдохновенье,
И жизнь, и слезы, и любовь.
«After plodding year after year / through towns in an alien land, / we have ground enough to despair — / and despair is where we must end. For despair is our final refuge — / as if, midwinter, we had come / from Vespers in a nearby church, / through Russian snow, to our home.»
«Bring visions when you ring my bell / or all the loveliness of hell, / of God, if you belong to that band. / But little acts of meaning well — / just leave them outside on the hat stand. On this small pea in endless space / be shining angel or be demon. / But not mere man, though, for...»
«Through the closed nursery doors, the sugar angel / stares through the chink to see / the children playing at the Christmas party, / the brightly candled tree. Nana is making up the crackling fire, / a blaze for Christmas Day. / Only the sugar angel — he is German — / wastes, warm a...»
«I had a bird in my hand / but my bird has flown. / I held a bird in my hand / but am now all alone. My small bird has left me / full of anger and rage; / my blue bird has left me / alone in a cage.»