And once more the autumn blasts like Tamerlane,
There is silence in the streets of Arbat.
Beyond the little station or beyond the haze
The impassable road is dark.
So here it is, the latest one! And the rage
Subsides. It's as if the world had gone deaf...
A mighty, evangelical old age
And that most bitter Gethsemane sigh.
И снова осень валит Тамерланом,
В арбатских переулках тишина.
За поулстанком или за туманом
Дорога непроезжая черна.
Так вот она, последняя! И ярость
Стихает. Все равно что мир оглох...
Могучая евангельская старость
И тот горчайший гефсиманский вздох.
«How did they kill my grandmother? / I’ll tell you how they killed her. / On morning a tank rolled up to / a building where / one hundred and fifty Jews of our town who, / weightless / from a year’s starvation, / and white / with the knowledge of death, / were gatheredholding th...»
«The gentleman swayed and dozed in his cabin, swaying / to the right, to the left, and back again. / He swayed alone, restless. / He swayed away from life and what he’d lived. / My friend, you are on your way as well, / but where will we be bound tomorrow? / Believe me: these feeble fac...»
«What use are words and what’s a pen, / When on my heart this rock is weighing, / When like a convict’s ball and chain / Another’s burden I’m conveying? / I used to be a city-boy, / And life for me was full of pleasure, / But now in deserts without joy / The graves I dig are all...»
«Today I was watching as, heavy, your tears they were tumbling, / Upon the black chiffon for ages they glistened and lay, / And how I then wanted to tell you, in spite of my mumbling, / About the white roses that blossom on bush’s green sway. I know that you cannot but beautifully weep on yo...»