Books and a pencil case in a strap, as I
Sauntered home, with the school receding.
These lindens, I’m sure, won’t forget the time,
My merry boy, of our very first meeting.
Only now that little cygnet, once gray,
Changed, becoming a haughty swan,
And sorrow descended like an undying ray
On my life, and my voice is gone.
В ремешках пенал и книги были,
Возвращалась я домой из школы.
Эти липы, верно, не забыли
Нашей встречи, мальчик мой весёлый.
Только, ставши лебедем надменным,
Изменился серый лебедёнок.
А на жизнь мою лучом нетленным
Грусть легла, и голос мой незвонок.
«The girl was singing in a church choir, / About the weary abroad, far away, / About the ships in the sea, so dire, / And those who'd forgotten their happy day. So sweet was her voice flying up into highness / With shimmering beam on her shoulder of white, / And every one listened watc...»
«Night. Streetlamp. Street. The chemist's store. / A world in dingy, sleazy light. / Survive a quarter century more, / Nothing will change. Can't leave tonight. You'll die- and start the whole thing over. / The same old story will repeat: / Night. Icy rippling of the river. / Streetlamp...»
«We are two tree-trunks lightning struck alight, / Two flames of midnight woodland by the sea. / We are two meteors soaring through the night, / The two-tipped arrow of one destiny, We are two steeds whose rein a single right / Hand holds. One spur pricks them to harmony. / We are the two ...»
«A sail drifts white and on its own / Amid the light blue ocean haze. / What does it seek in distant country? / What made it leave its native bays? The billows play. The winds are whistling / Down at the bending, creaking mast / Oh! This one seeks no happy ending / And does not flee a ha...»