I hear caterwauling somewhere,
Distant footfalls echo in the night.
A fine lullaby to me you left!
The third month, this, since last I slept.
You're with me once again, insomnia,
Your iron face closer than anything;
Beauty, lawless beauty that you are,
Really, don't you like the way I sing?
Windows draped in white, diffuse
twilight with a spreading haze of blue...
Are we consoled by news from far away?
And why am I so light of heart with you?
Где-то кошки жалобно мяукают,
Звук шагов я издали ловлю...
Хорошо твои слова баюкают:
Третий месяц я от них не сплю.
Ты опять, опять со мной, бессонница!
Неподвижный лик твой узнаю.
Что, красавица, что, беззаконница,
Разве плохо я тебе пою?
Окна тканью белою завершены,
Полумрак струится голубой...
Или дальней вестью мы утешены?
Отчего мне так легко с тобой?
«No, not with you I fell in love so fast, / And not for me your beauty is succeeding; / I love in you my suffering preceding, / And youth of mine, that perished in the past. And when sometimes my look is long and hard, / And penetrates your eyes of high perfection; / I'm busy with a secret...»
«No, I'm not Byron; I am, yet, / Another choice for the sacred dole, / Like him — a persecuted soul, / But only of the Russian set. / I early start and end the whole, / And will not win the future days; / Like in an ocean, in my soul, / A cargo of lost hopes stays. / Who, oh, my oce...»
«No matter who you are, my neighbor, always sad, / I like you, yet, as my young years’ friend — / My comrade by a mischance-law — / Though the fate’s manipulative hand / Divided us for time without end, / Now by wall, then — by the unknown. When half-light of the everyday sunris...»
«My home is always there,in the heaven's vault, / Where one just hears lyre's sounds, / All with a spark of life have here their resort, / A bard has, too, a space around. It gets the farthest stars by edges of his roof, / And from a wall to one another / There is a pa...»