A heavy shroud is placed onto the ground,
The bells are droning in a solemn show,
The spirit is again confused and troubled
By weary boredom of the Tsarskoe Selo.
Five years have passed. And all is dumb and dead here,
The world has reached the end, it seems.
The theme exhausted for all time is set here,
The palace rests now in a mortal dream.
На землю саван тягостный возложен,
Торжественно гудят колокола,
И снова дух смятен и потревожен
Истомой скуки Царского Села.
Пять лет прошло. Здесь все мертво и немо,
Как будто мира наступил конец.
Как навсегда исчерпанная тема,
В смертельном сне покоится дворец.
«She has not taken her first sigh — / She is the word and music both — / And thus of all that lives and grows / A timeless and unbroken tie. Placidly breathe the breasts of sea / The day is bright, as if gone mad, / The sea foam's pallid lilacs stand / In vase of lapis lazuli. O, wo...»
«She has yet to be born: / she is music and word, / and she eternally bonds / all life in this world. / / The sea breathes gently; / the day glitters wildly. / A bowl of dazed azure / sways pale foam-lilac. / / May I too reach back / to that ancient silence, / like a note of...»
«— She’s at the riverbed, in algae, covered / With weeds... She went to sleep there, / But there’s no dream there, as it happens. / — But I loved her, / Loved more than forty thousand brothers / Ever could have loved! / — Hamlet...»
«— She's — She's in the riverbed, in algae / And weeds...She went to them / To sleep, — but there's no sleep there, either! / — But she's the one I loved / Like forty thousand brothers / Couldn't love! / — Hamlet! / She's in the riverbed, ...»