Today is the name day of Our Lady of Smolensk,
Dark blue incense drifts over the grass,
And the flowing of the Requiem
Is no longer sorrowful, but radiant.
And the rosy little widows lead
Their boys and girls to the cemetery
To visit father’s grave.
But the graveyard — a grove of nightingales,
Grows silent from the sun’s bright blaze.
We have brought to the Intercessor of Smolensk,
We have brought to the Holy Mother of God,
In our hands in a silver coffin
Our sun, extinguished in torment —
Alexander, pure swan.
Памяти Ал. Блока
А Смоленская нынче именинница,
Синий ладан над травою стелется,
И струится пенье панихидное,
Не печальное нынче, а светлое.
И приводят румяные вдовушки
На кладбище мальчиков и девочек
Поглядеть на могилы отцовские,
А кладбище — роща соловьиная,
От сиянья солнечного замерло.
Принесли мы Смоленской Заступнице,
Принесли Пресвятой Богородице
На руках во гробе серебряном
Наше солнце, в муке погасшее, —
Александра, лебедя чистого.
«I’m not that lover, filled with passion, — / That youth, who left the world amazed: / Alas, my spring and summer passed now, / And didn’t leave a single trace. / Cupid, the god of youth and love and virtue! / I used to be your steadfast servant; / Oh, if I could be reborn, — I...»
«— What’s new? “I tell you, nothing whatsoever.” / — Don’t fool with me: you’re hiding it, I know. / Oh, don’t you feel ashamed? you think you’re clever / To hide the news from me like from a foe? / Oh, tell me, brother, why? Inform me, I insist! / Don’t be so stubborn, ...»
«Today your gods do not deny you / These golden nights and golden days, / And gentle, fragile ladies eye you / With an attentive fervent gaze. / Play on, sing on, while you are blessed! / Squander away the fleeting night; / Through tears, I smile at the sight / Of your light-hearted hap...»
«My days still linger, slow and rough, / Each moment multiplies the sadness / Within the heart of hapless love / And drives my yearning into madness. / I’m silent; I don’t dare to breathe. / I weep, my tears are my salvation. / My soul, held captive in this grief, / In tears alone f...»