No, no, I did not love you, — gladly
Scorched though I was by such a flame;
And yet explain the strength that sadly
Still lingers for me in your name.
In front of me I saw you kneeling,
Like one who waited for a crown;
And round your youthful head was wheeling
Death’s silent shade to strike you down.
You went, — but not to triumph going;
You went to death. Oh empty night l
My Angel, may you stay not knowing,
Not seeing my despairing plight.
But if white suns from Paradises
Shine on the pathway in the spring,
But if the meadow bird arises
Among the spiked sheaves, on the wing.
Oh this is you, I know it, trying
To converse with me from the grave;
I see the shot-scarred hillock lying
Above the Dniester’s bloody wave.
Days of renown and love forgetting.
Forgetting days of youth gone by.
And crafty ways, and soul’s dark fretting.
Yet still your face, your fame unsetting
I shall remember till I die.
О нет, я не тебя любила,
Палима сладостным огнем,
Так объясни, какая сила
В печальном имени твоем.
Передо мною на колени
Ты стал, как будто ждал венца,
И смертные коснулись тени
Спокойно юного лица.
И ты ушел. Не за победой,
За смертью. Ночи глубоки!
О, ангел мой, не знай, не ведай
Моей теперешней тоски.
Но если белым солнцем рая
В лесу осветится тропа,
Но если птица полевая
Взлетит с колючего снопа,
Я знаю: это ты, убитый,
Мне хочешь рассказать о том,
И снова вижу холм изрытый
Над окровавленным Днестром.
Забуду дни любви и славы,
Забуду молодость мою,
Душа темна, пути лукавы,
Но образ твой, твой подвиг правый
До часа смерти сохраню.
«I still believe that I shall return to life, / shall wake early one day, at dawn, / in the light, early hours, in the transparent dew, / where the branches are studded with drops, / and a small lake stands in the sundew’s bowl, / reflecting the swift flight of the clouds. / And, inclin...»
«To My Sister / / I dreamt of the old house / where I spent my childhood years, / and the heart, as before, finds / comfort, and love, and warmth. / / I dreamt of Christmas, the tree, / and my sister laughing out loud, / from morning, the rosy windows / sparkle tenderly. / ...»
«With both knees pressed down on the still, / Mouth fixed like a fish’s to the pane, / I breathe, ant then breathe in again: / So, clinging to life, a body will / Suck from a greyish sack: so the heart bounds / Insistently: it’s time, it’s time to go! / The firmament is heavy on the...»
«To Faina Grigorievna Ranevskaya I forgive you almost all your sins / Only two of them I can’t allow: / Poetry you whisper to yourself, / And you kiss out loud. / / Sin, have fun, and blossom with the years. / Only heed my mother advice — / A kiss, my darling, isn’t for the ears...»