To N.G. Chulkova
There are such days before the spring:
When meadows rest beneath the snow,
And dry and cheerful branches swing
When gentle warm winds blow.
You marvel at your body’s lightness
And do not recognize your home,
You sing again with new excitement
The song that once seemed tiresome.
Н. Г. Чулковой
Перед весной бывают дни такие:
Под плотным снегом отдыхает луг,
Шумят деревья весело-сухие,
И тёплый ветер нежен и упруг.
И лёгкости своей дивится тело,
И дома своего не узнаёшь,
А песню ту, что прежде надоела,
Как новую, с волнением поёшь.
«My shadow has remained there and is angstful, / In that blue room she to this day lives, / She waits for guests from city beyond midnight / And to enamel image gives a kiss. / And things are not quite well around the house: / It still is dark, although they lit the flame... / Not from al...»
«I see capital through the flurry / On this Monday night twenty-first. / Some do-nothing has made up the story / That love exists on the earth. And from laziness or from boredom / All believed, and thus they do live: / Waiting for meeting, fearing the parting, / And singing songs of love...»
«On the blooming lilac bushes / Sky is sowing the light rain. / Beats with wings upon the window / The white, the white Spirits' day. For a friend to be returning / From the sea - especial hour. / I am dreaming of the far shore, / Of the stone, sand and tower. I will enter, meeting ligh...»
«I know, that you are my reward / For years of labor and of pain, / For that unto the earthly pleasures / I never did myself betray, / For that I never ever told / Unto my loved one, "You are loved." / For that I did forgive all people / You'll be my angel from above.»