A widow in black — the crying fall
Covers all hearts with a depressing cloud...
While her man's words are clearly recalled,
She will not stop her lamentations loud.
It will be so, until the snow puff
Will give a mercy to the pined and tired.
Forgetfulness of suffering and love —
Though paid by life — what more could be desired?
Заплаканная осень, как вдова
В одеждах черных, все сердца туманит.
Перебирая мужнины слова,
Она рыдать не перестанет.
И будет так, пока тишайший снег
Не сжалится над скорбной и усталой...
Забвенье боли и забвенье нег —
За это жизнь отдать не мало.
«He didn’t deceive us, that sad, somber spirit / Who wears the morning star as pseudonym / And said: “Shun not the highest gain, nor fear it: / Taste of the fruit and you will equal Him.” Instantly, for the youth, all roads lay open, / And for old men, all mysteries to know, / And to...»
«He told us no lies, that harsh spirit with sad / eyes and the morning star's name: / he said, "Don't worry about Heaven's vengeance; / eat of the fruit and be like gods." Young men can go anywhere, now, / old men can do anything, / and girls have / amber fruit and unicorns white as snow...»
«He was walking from Bethany to Jerusalem, / Brooding over sad premonitions. The sun scorched the slope's prickly shrubs. / No smoke was rising over a nearby hut, / The air was hot and the reeds motionless, / And the calm of the Dead Sea lay still. And with a bitterness rivalling the sea's,...»
«Oh, to hell with this storm, damn this snow and hail – / pounding on the rooftop, driving in white nails! / But me – I’m not frightened, and I know my fate: / my wastrel heart has nailed me to you – nailed us tight! »