Here is the long-bided hour: the labor of years is accomplished.
Why should this sadness unplumbed secretly weigh on my heart?
Is it, my work being done, I stand like a laborer, useless,
One who has taken his pay, alien to unwonted tasks?
Is it the work I regret, the silent companion of midnight,
Friend of the golden-haired Dawn, friend of the gods of the hearth?
Миг вожделенный настал: окончен мой труд многолетний.
Что ж непонятная грусть тайно тревожит меня?
Или, свой подвиг свершив, я стою, как подёнщик ненужный,
Плату приявший свою, чуждый работе другой?
Или жаль мне труда, молчаливого спутника ночи,
Друга Авроры златой, друга пенатов святых?
«In cloudy darkness, the bored crescent-sable / Had sent to our room its grim shine. / Six sets are installed on the white of the table, / And empty of them — only one. We wait — I, my husband and few friends of mine — / For time the New Year to be met. / But, just like a poison, bu...»
«The moon, weary in the pall of cloud, / cast a murky glance at the hill. / The table was laid for six, / and only one place was empty. My husband, myself and my friends / are seeing the new year in. / Why are my fingers covered as with blood? / Why does the wine burn like poison? The h...»
«Oh, if I’ve known, when, in dress of whiteness, / Muse was just coming to my living place, / That to the lyre, stoned in the timeless, / My hands’ warm flesh will be forever pressed. Oh, if I’ve known, when was flying fierce / And playful tempest of my love, the last, / That to the ...»
«Oh, Lord, I can forgive what’s done to me by them, / But better, a wild hawk, I would tear a lamb, / Or, a snake — sting the sleeping in the grasses, / Than to be man, and see what people masses / Do on the earth, and through the noxious shame / To not dare up my eyes to heavens’ pur...»