He loved three things in this world:
Evensong, peacocks of white,
And old tattered maps of America.
He despised it when little kids bawled,
Hated tea with preserves, and disliked
Women acting hysterical.
...And I was his wife.
Он любил три вещи на свете:
За вечерней пенье, белых павлинов
И стертые карты Америки.
Не любил, когда плачут дети,
Не любил чая с малиной
И женской истерики.
...А я была его женой.
«Past one o’clock. You’re probably in bed / The Milky Way streams like the silver Oka / I won’t send wild telegrams. I don’t intend / to trouble you and vex you any longer / and now, as people say, our case is closed / the boat of love could not endure the grind / We’re even now...»
«In the realm of Threeteenseventy, / Commonwealth of Thriceleventy, / Lived the famous Tsar Dadon. / Fierce he was from boyhood on, / And when scarcely more than twenty / Wrought his neighbors wrongs aplenty. / Aging now, he changed in mind, / Would give up the warlike grind / For a l...»
«Sun is but one, yet it marches through all towns undone. / Sun is all mine. I shall give it away to no one, / / For a day, for a ray, for a glance. — To no one. Nevermore! / Let cities perish in dark endless night, I implore! / / I'll take the sun in my palms! I won't let it go round...»
«Sun — is one, but treads all over the cities, / Sun — is mine. I shan't give it to anybody. Not for an hour, for ray, nor for glance. — Nobody, never! / Then let cities vanish in the night unchangeable. I'll take it in hands! — To avoid its circling in round! / Besides of burning ...»