There was painter once,
Owned a small home and his art.
But there’s an actress he loved,
Flowers were dear to her heart.
So he sold his house on a whim —
His art and his roof, undeterred —
And spent all the money to buy
A whole sea of flowers for her.
A million, million, million red roses here,
From you room, from your room, from your room, you can view.
One in love, one in love, one in love – that’s sincere! —
Will transform life into flowers for you.
Outside the window, you gaze —
Maybe your mind’s in a daze?
Your dream is continuing there,
Flowers have covered the square.
Your soul turns cold, overwhelmed —
What affluent man went offbeat?
But there, not a penny in hand,
The painter stands in the street.
Their meeting was fleeting, of course.
She left on the train in the night.
But in her life there once was
The mad song of roses outside.
The painter lived all alone.
Through much misfortune and gloom.
But in his life there once was
A square full of roses in bloom.
Миллион роз
Жил-был художник один,
домик имел и холсты.
Но он актрису любил,
ту, что любила цветы.
Он тогда продал свой дом –
Продал картины и кров –
и на все деньги купил
целое море цветов.
Миллион, миллион, миллион алых роз
из окна видишь ты.
Кто влюблён, кто влюблён, кто влюблён – и всерьёз! –
свою жизнь для тебя превратит в цветы.
Утром встаёшь у окна –
может, сошла ты с ума?
Как продолжение сна,
площадь цветами полна.
Похолодеет душа –
что за богач там чудит?
А за окном без гроша
Бедный художник стоит.
Встреча была коротка.
В ночь её поезд увёз.
Но в её жизни была
песня безумная роз.
Прожил художник один.
Много он бед перенёс.
но в его жизни была
целая площадь из роз.
«Shagane, you are my Shagane! / Maybe because I'm from the North, / I'm ready to tell you everything, / About the waving rye under the moon, / My Shagane, Shagane. Maybe because I'm from the North, / That the moon is a hundred times bigger there, / No matter how she could be beautiful, /...»
«You said that Sa'adi / Kissed only on the breasts. / Wait for God sake, / I'll learn one day! You sang 'Behind the Yefrat / The roses are better than mortal girls'. / If I were rich, / I would make another tune. I'd cut these roses, / For there is only one joy for me — / That the...»
«I've never been to the Bosphorus, / You don't ask me about it. / In your eyes I saw the sea, / Flaming with blue fire. I didn't go to Baghdad with the caravan, / I didn't take silk and henna. / Bend with your beautiful body, / Let me rest on my knees. Or is it again so, that no matter ...»
«The evening light of the saffron land, / Quietly are the roses running along the fields. / Sing a song to me dear, / The one that Khayyam sang to you. / Quietly are the roses running along the fields. With the moonlight is Shiraz alighted, / The fly hive of stars is dancing. / I don't l...»