In fields hopeless and dumb
Droops the pale-bladed grain;
It is dozing and numb
Amid dreams that are vain...
With a high sudden hum
The field tosses its mane:
«Unto us Christ is come!»
The wild news shakes the plain.
Like a wind-beaten drum
Shouts the quivering grain.
The bells ring soft and slow,
There is clamor and pain
In the church, and a low
Voice is lifted again
That reiterates: «Woe!»
To the poor folk and plain
Are brought candles aglow:
«Christ is coming again!»
But with voices of woe
They file doorward, in pain.
В безысходности нив
онемелый овес
дремлет, колос склонив,
средь несбыточных грез...
Тишину возмутив,
весть безумно пронес
золотой перелив,
что идет к нам Христос.
Закивал, возопив,
исступленный овес.
Тихий звон. Сельский храм
полон ропота, слез.
Не внимая мольбам
голос, полный угроз,
все твердит: «Горе вам!»
Кто-то свечи принес
и сказал беднякам:
«Вот Спаситель-Христос
приближается к нам»...
Среди вздохов и слез
потянулись к дверям.
«Near Moscow living, I, this winter, / In blizzard, chill, and snow, / On business when it was essential / Always caught the train to town. When I went out on some occasions / The street was black as pitch. / And through the forests dark I scattered / My tread that creaked at every step....»
«1 In the world bellowing: / Glory to the coming! / What whispers in me: / Glory to the gone be! To you, passing, / That won't counted be, / Not bearing children, / Preceding me. With brush, with key / They argued, with deed / Written — pure / Was their life, with honor. White...»
«2 Generation with lilac / And on Easter in Kremlin, / My hello to generation / In the earth to the knee, And with gray spots — in stars! / Than the reed louder, / To you, speaking: "so-ul" / Will tremble the air. Only having saved the soul / From wealth of family / Without brot...»
«Near cloughs a queer grove of sadness / Hides a green hill with all-time haze. / Around - there is a brook's live wetness / That babbles spelling on sweet laze. / Quaint flowers, rare herbs grow over / That fresh green hill but no sun-beam / Can ever get in here, lower, / There's only ...»