No letter came for me today:
Did he forget or go away thereafter,
The spring is like a trill of silver laughter
The boats are bobbing in the bay.
No letter came for me today…
He was with me not very long ago,
So much in love, so gentle and all mine,
But that was still the white of wintertime,
Now spring is here, with poison in its woe
He was with me not very long ago…
I hear: the fiddle bow is trembling and light,
It beats, it beats as if from deathly ache,
And I’m afraid now that my heart will break
And leave unfinished tender lines I write…
Сегодня мне письма не принесли:
Забыл он написать или уехал;
Весна как трель серебряного смеха,
Качаются в заливе корабли.
Сегодня мне письма не принесли…
Он был со мной еще совсем недавно,
Такой влюбленный, ласковый и мой,
Но это было белою зимой,
Теперь весна, и грусть весны отравна,
Он был со мной еще совсем недавно…
Я слышу: легкий трепетный смычок,
Как от предсмертной боли, бьется, бьется,
И страшно мне, что сердце разорвется,
Не допишу я этих нежных строк…
«"There lived on earth a humble knight…"1 / / This little book a poet / Gave me in the corridors / Of Gosizdat.2 / The book is torn and tattered, / The poet long since dead. It was said that in his visage / There was something of a bird / And of Egypt-so they said. / He had a be...»
«If I walk the noisy streets, / Or enter a many thronged church, / Or sit among the wild young generation, / I give way to my thoughts. I say to myself: the years are fleeting, / And however many there seem to be, / We must all go under the eternal vault, / And someone's hour is already ...»
«The storm wind covers the sky / Whirling the fleecy snow drifts, / Now it howls like a wolf, / Now it is crying, like a lost child, / Now rustling the decayed thatch / On our tumbledown roof, / Now, like a delayed traveller, / Knocking on our window pane. Our wretched little cottage /...»
«If beasts within a silent forest moan, / if trumpets sound, if thunder rolls and cracks, / Or young girls sing almost inaudibly / For each initial tone / The atmosphere resounds quite suddenly / With a response, your own. You listen to the peal of distant thunder, / The rumbling voice o...»