He marked with coal, as I languished,
A target on my left side
To shoot and free the bird — my anguish
Into the empty night.
Your hand won’t tremble in the least,
My dear! I won’t suffer long.
The bird — my anguish will soar, released,
To perch and sing its song.
This will cause him to say it aloud,
The one who is home and content:
“A familiar voice, but I can’t make it out,” —
And lower his eyes again.
Углем наметил на левом боку
Место, куда стрелять,
Чтоб выпустить птицу — мою тоску
В пустынную ночь опять.
Милый! не дрогнет твоя рука,
И мне недолго терпеть.
Вылетит птица — моя тоска,
Сядет на ветку и станет петь.
Чтоб тот, кто спокоен в своем дому,
Раскрывши окно, сказал:
«Голос знакомый, а слов не пойму», —
И опустил глаза.
«Gentle in friendship, in argument vehement, / It seems only yesterday I saw you thus / Sitting here talking with Boris Levin** / Till dawn, there was so much to discuss. I see you addressing a general meeting / Of the club with a speech that’s tense and terse, / Winning the Diamond Cup,...»
«Over Moscow where the Moskva River flows, / When the hostile bombers came at night, / When for watches in the hush of dark we rose, / Then our flashlights we would always light. A sentry round the year, / From sundown till the light, / My flashlight, my companion dear, / Burn bright, bu...»
«Black cross on the Italian’s bosom, / With no chasing, or pattern, or gloss on, / By poor family handed down, / Heirloom worn by the only son. Young and carefree native of Napoli, / Why come here to die so unhappily? / What strange restlessness drove you away / From the shores of that...»
«To Iosif Utkin* Fresh oats he’ll feed / To the horses on top the Bolshoi**, / Four spirited steeds / Strong and fast1 as a river in spate. / We’ve caught up with that woman... / Are you called Cleopatra? My joy, / Come to me, come, / I’m waiting for you at the gate. I shall sho...»