Oh, if I’ve known, when, in dress of whiteness,
Muse was just coming to my living place,
That to the lyre, stoned in the timeless,
My hands’ warm flesh will be forever pressed.
Oh, if I’ve known, when was flying fierce
And playful tempest of my love, the last,
That to the best of youths, in bitter tears,
I’ll close his, like eagle’s, dear eyes.
Oh, if I’ve known, when, by my successes
Pined, I was tempting destiny, discreet,
That soon with laugh, so scornful one and merciless,
Will people answer to my last entreat.
О, знала ль я, когда в одежде белой
Входила Муза в тесный мой приют,
Что к лире, навсегда окаменелой,
Мои живые пальцы припадут.
О, знала ль я, когда неслась, играя,
Моей любви последняя гроза,
Что лучшему из юношей, рыдая,
Закрою я орлиные глаза…
О, знала ль я, когда, томясь успехом,
Я искушала дивную Судьбу,
Что скоро люди беспощадным смехом
Ответят на предсмертную мольбу.
«Thinking of something, carelessly, / Something invisible, buried treasure, / Step by step, poppy by poppy, / I beheaded the flowers, at leisure. So someday, in the dry breath / Of summer, at the edge of the sown, / Absent-mindedly, Death / Will gather a flower — my own! »
«Elderberry fills the scene! / Elderberry, green and green. / Greener than mould on the vat! / Summer’s birth, greener than that! / Elderberry, till the light dies! / Elderberry, green as my eyes. And later — at night — with the fires / Of Rostov! – redness in the eyes, / From...»
«Homesickness! That long / Exposure to misery! / It’s all the same to me – / Where I’m utterly lonely Or what stones I wander / Home by, with my sacks, / Home that’s no more mine / Than a hospital, a barracks. It’s all the same to me, what / Faces I bristle among, a lion / ...»
«Cut veins: irrecoverably / Irreplaceably, life whips out. / Bring out basins and bowls! / Though the bowl’s — too low, / The basin’s — too shallow. Over the lip, watch it flow, / To black earth, to feed the reeds. / Irreplaceably, verse will go, / Irrevocably, irrecoverably.»