Wide and yellow the evening light.
I feel a gentle April chill.
Your coming's late by many a year
but to me you're welcome still.
Look at me with those merry eyes;
sit down next to me this minute:
here's that blue-bound notebook
with my girlish verses in it.
Forgive me for living like a hermit,
for not delighting in the sun.
Forgive my taking so many others
when — you know — you were the one.
Широк и жёлт вечерний свет,
Нежна апрельская прохлада.
Ты опоздал на много лет,
Но все-таки тебе я рада.
Сюда ко мне поближе сядь,
Гляди весёлыми глазами:
Вот эта синяя тетрадь —
С моими детскими стихами.
Прости, что я жила скорбя
И солнцу радовалась мало.
Прости, прости, что за тебя
Я слишком многих принимала.
«High in the sky, the cloud grew grayer, / Like a stretched out squirrel pelt. / "I don’t care," he said, "Snow Maiden, / That in March your frame will melt." My hands grew cold in the downy muff. / I felt scared, confused and wary. / How to bring back the weeks of his love / That pass...»
«The door ajar, the sudden / Sweet scents of limes close up… / The glove and whip, forgotten, / Lie on the tabletop. The oval of the lamp aglow… / I’m listening, intent. / Why did you have to go? / I do not understand… Tomorrow morning surely will / Be jubilant and nice, / A...»
«…You want to know how this came to be? — / In the dining room, the clock struck three, / Holding the banister timidly, / While saying goodbye, she said listlessly: / “That is it… No, there is more, you see. / I love you. I loved you wholeheartedly / Even back then, no less!” ...»
«I led a bandit out, to shoot her. / She didn’t beg, she didn’t plead — / Just glared at me with pride and anger. / Her pain was bad. She clenched her teeth. And then she said: “Now listen, fella, / You’re gonna shoot me anyway. / Before you lay me down forever, / Just let me l...»