Ever since St. Agrafena’s day,
He has kept my crimson shawl.
He gloats like King David, enthralled.
His frosty cell has walls of gray,
And no one talks to him at all.
I’ll go to his door and stand in his way,
“Return my shawl to me!” I’ll say.
Со дня Купальницы-Аграфены
Малиновый платок хранит.
Молчит, а ликует, как царь Давид.
В морозной келье белы стены,
И с ним никто не говорит.
Приду и стану на порог,
Скажу: «Отдай мне мой платок!»
«A lone white sail steadfastly glistens / Through azure mists afar at sea. / What does it seek in far-off distance? / What has it lost in native realm? The waves break fast, the wind is clipping, / The mast is creaking as it sways. / Alas, it seeks no blissful being, / Nor does it run fr...»
«I’m sad, because I love you way too much to bear, / And I’m aware: the baleful rumor mill won’t spare / Your blooming youth. And soon your destiny will reckon / Your recompense for all blithe days for all sweet seconds. / With bitter tears and rueful sorrow you’ll repay. / I am sa...»
«What am I for, me, just a grain? / I'm living toiling hard with care, / For happiness I spend my life in vain, / I'm never pleased, weep on in my despair! What do I seek? Do I want more? / Where is my place? What am I for? There is a kin who die to seize / All proper answers in a blink. ...»
«I write for no quick reputation: / It is for fun, game, recreation, / For friends of mine, cute and sincere; / To mind the days that disappear.»