All year long, you have always been near me,
Always joyful and young, all along!
Could it be that you haven’t grown weary
Of the suffering strings’ troubled song, —
Those, which used to be taut and loud,
And can now only moan slightly, spent,
They’re tormented and nearly worn-out
By my dry, waxen hand...
Not much’s needed for joy and elation,
When you’re gentle and loving in truth,
Neither jealousy, angst, nor vexation
Can perturb the brow of the youth.
He never asks for endearment, all quiet,
Only gazes at me all the time,
And he bears with a blissful smile
This distressing oblivion of mine.
Н. В. Н.<едоброво>
Целый год ты со мной неразлучен,
А как прежде и весел и юн!
Неужели же ты не измучен
Смутной песней затравленных струн, —
Тех, что прежде, тугие, звенели,
А теперь только стонут слегка,
И моя их терзает без цели
Восковая, сухая рука…
Верно, мало для счастия надо
Тем, кто нежен и любит светло,
Что ни ревность, ни гнев, ни досада
Молодое не тронут чело.
Тихий, тихий, и ласки не просит,
Только долго глядит на меня
И с улыбкой блаженной выносит
Страшный бред моего забытья.
«Wakeful windows shine. / All night long, they’re lit. / Folks there might drink wine, / Or may simply sit. / Two may just hold hands / During warmth and winter: / In each house, my friend, / There is such a window. Neither wax nor lamps lit the dark away: / It's the eyes, awa...»
«Two threads, together braided, / With bare ends, not combined, / Those “yes” and “no” are plaited, / Disjoined, but intertwine. / In dark and dead entwinement, / Packed tightly, idle then, / Just waiting for revival. / Revival waits for them. / Some “yes” and “no”, em...»
«Beyond the window, it’s still bright, / Through cloud gaps, the Sun there glitters. / Wings in the sand shake in delight: / A sparrow, wallowing, now flitters. Onto the ground, down from the skies, / A pall is moving with a tremble / Beyond, the forest margin lies / As if in gold dust...»
«By a cliff a golden cloud once lingered; / On his breast it slept, but, riseing early, / Off it gently rushed across the pearly / Blue of sky, a tiny thing and winged. Still, a trace it left upon the stony / Giant's heart, and plunged in thought and weeping / Slow and tortured tears, he s...»