In Kievan temple of the divine wisdom
Falling to knees, I before thee did vow
That your way will be my way
Wherever, wherever it will go.
Thus heard Yaroslav in a white coffin
And angels made of gold in his stead.
Like pigeons, weave the simple words
And are now near the sunny heads.
If I get weak, I dream of an icon
And ten steps on it, all are blessed.
In menacing voice of the Sofian ringing
I hear the sound of your unrest.
И в Киевском храме Премудрости Бога,
Припав к солее, я тебе поклялась,
Что будет моею твоя дорога,
Где бы она ни вилась.
То слышали ангелы золотые
И в белом гробу Ярослав.
Как голуби, вьются слова простые
И ныне у солнечных глав.
И если слабею, мне снится икона
И девять ступенек на ней.
И в голосе грозном софийского звона
Мне слышится голос тревоги твоей.
«No regrets, no cries, no pain will ever / Touch my heart like blossoms touch a tree / Withering with autumn, I will never / Be the young man that I used to be You, my heart, are slowing down already / As you’re freezing inch by inch inside / Barefooted, wild me — how upsetting! — / ...»
«You were watering a horse from your hands by the lake, / I was watching reflections dance, shiver and break. From my window I watched as your blue shawl unpinned, / Your black serpently curls flying free in the wind. In my shimmering dream, there was no greater bliss / Than to steal a sharp ...»
«Ancient mysteries of nature / Sleep in secret, sacred fields. / Mother Earth! I’m but a stranger / To your endless vales and hills. Vast of forests, breadth of waters, / Wings are strong below the sun. / But your ages and your wonders / Blur in planets’ endless run. Not by you, I w...»
«I don’t cry, nor long for, nor regretting – / Life is short like smoke of blooming trees. / In my fading chiton with ‘golden setting / I will be no longer young like this. You, my heart, will not go on as ever, / For the cold has touched your very core. / And the land of chintz and ...»