My heart beats smoothly, steadily,
What are long years to me?
Under the Galernaya arch,
Our shadows, for eternity.
Through half-closed eyelids,
I see, I see that you’re with me,
And forever held in your hand
Is my unopened fan.
Because we stood together,
In that blessed miraculous moment,
The instant of the rose-red moon
Lifting over the Summer Garden —
I’ve no need to wait
At some hateful window,
Or grow weary with meeting —
My thirsty love is quenched.
You are free, and so am I,
Tomorrow will be better than yesterday —
Above the Neva’s dark waters,
Below the Emperor Peter’s
Cold smile.
Сердце бьётся ровно, мерно.
Что мне долгие года!
Ведь под аркой на Галерной
Наши тени навсегда.
Сквозь опущенные веки
Вижу, вижу, ты со мной,
И в руке твоей навеки
Нераскрытый веер мой.
Оттого, что стали рядом
Мы в блаженный миг чудес,
В миг, когда над Летним садом
Месяц розовый воскрес, —
Мне не надо ожиданий
У постылого окна
И томительных свиданий.
Вся любовь утолена.
Ты свободен, я свободна,
Завтра лучше, чем вчера, —
Над Невою темноводной,
Под улыбкою холодной
Императора Петра.
«How goest your life with another? / Any easier? One oar in the water, plink! / And off drifts the erstwhile once-lover. / Did all too soon the memory shrink Of me, the island that sails astray / (Through sky and not through watery mass)? / Souls, souls! You’re to be siblings now, hey! /...»
«Whispering and timid breathing, / Nightingale’s trill, / Silver sheen of waters seething, / Sleepy brooklet’s dishabille. Noctilucence, nocturne shades, / Lengthy shadows without end, / Alternating glow cascades, / Charm to dear fa...»
«Sighing and song of the nightingale, / And shy murmuring, / Shimmer and silver / Of the sleepy stream, And light of the dark, / And endless shadows, / And magical changes / In your face, In smoky clouds the purple of a rose, / ...»
«Futile gift, so unexpected — / Life, why were you brought to me? / Rather, why are you subjected / To a brutal penalty? What unfriendly power brought me / Into being from nothingness, / Filled my soul with passion, wrought me / Doubts and qualms and faithlessness? No ambitions stand ...»