My youth was hard to endure.
With so much sorrow to bear.
How can a soul this poor
Be returned to You rich and fair?
A song of praise, long and elegant,
The flattering fate sings fervent.
Lord, Almighty! I’m negligent,
Always Your miserly servant.
Not a rose, not a blade of grass
Will I be Your garden, Father.
I tremble at every speck of dust,
At each word that a fool may utter.
Дал Ты мне молодость трудную.
Столько печали в пути.
Как же мне душу скудную
Богатой Тебе принести?
Долгую песню, льстивая,
О славе поет судьба,
Господи! я нерадивая,
Твоя скупая раба.
Ни розою, ни былинкою
Не буду в садах Отца.
Я дрожу над каждой соринкою,
Над каждым словом глупца.
«The blue-gray sunset drew / Near, the air was tender and / Heady, and the misted garden / Somehow was specially green. And affirming the Unseen / One In clouds of hidden sadness. / Trumpets were sounding so / Softly in the rain-filled air. Suddenly, like a clear summons, / Something ...»
«The witch’s mask was glittering, / Her crutch rapped in its measured / Way... My New Year fairy tale. / Are you not my last fairy tale? Lips were not praying for happiness, / The repose was filled with shadows. / And the lilies’ open goblets / Exhaled an unearthly anguish. And soot...»
«“You are waiting? You are nervous? This / Is delirium. You are going to open up / To him? No! Understand this: a madman / Is knocking at your door; God knows where / And with whom he has spent the entire / Night, ragged, and his speech wild, / And his hand full of pebbles; at any momen...»
«The green candles are melting. / The censer glimmers dimly, up to / The very shoulders something / Has just sunk into the earth. At gravestones someone’s lips / Are soundlessly praying for breath. / Somebody leaning “from the cross” / Gives them yellow water to drink... “Will i...»