All promised him to me:
The heaven's edge, dark and kind,
And lovely Christmas sleep
And multi-ringing Easter wind,
And the red branches of a twig,
And waterfalls inside a park,
And two dragonflies
On rusty iron of a bulwark.
And I could not disbelieve,
That he'll befriend me today
When on the mountain slopes I went
Along hot stone pathway.
Все обещало мне его:
Край неба, тусклый и червонный,
И милый сон под Рождество,
И Пасхи ветер многозвонный,
И прутья красные лозы,
И парковые водопады,
И две большие стрекозы
На ржавом чугуне ограды.
И я не верить не могла,
Что будет дружен он со мною,
Когда по горным склонам шла
Горячей каменной тропою.
«Sunset dreams on fir-tre cones, / Green — the hedge, and brown — the field; / Mossy rifts in weathered stones / Meekly vernal waters yield. Oh, look up the wooded steep — / God has touched it with his palm; / Piously wild berries weep, / Listening to the grassy psa...»
«A Psalter of Tsar' Aleksii, / Its pages — scarves, funeral groats, / Restless Russia / Wanders, wheezing, through decrees. The peasant jacket is torn, / The disgraced headscarf flaps . / Now a bench by' the door would be good, / And tales about Constantinople, Honey buns on the tabl...»
«I have forgotten what is in my hands: / A heart, a hat, or a cane? / In the gardens of the Lord / Grape bunches ripen. Ahead the cry: "don't," / Behind: "return." / All that is quiet is the path / Leading upwards. Shouldn't I follow it? / Maybe, if no sin is committed, / On the azu...»
«All that was in the soul, all was lost again; / I lay down in the grass, sad and bored, / And a flower lifted its lovely form above me, / A grasshopper standing in front of it on guard. / / Then I opened the weighty volume I had before me, / And on the first page saw a drawing of a plan...»