«1 You did not bend the shoulders, when the red-haired / Impostor seized you and for you did reach. / Where is your pride, you baroness? Your blush, / You beauty? Brilliant girl, your speech? Like Tsar Peter, the law of sons despising, / Did lust with avarice after your head — / You ans...»
«2 The thief Grishka did not make you Polish, / The Tsar Peter did not make you German. / "What're you doing, little dove?" "I'm crying." / "Where, Moscow, is your pride?" "It's gone." "Where are all your doves?" "There is no feed." / "Who bore him away?" "The raven black." / "Where are a...»
«3 Liquid ringing, meager ringing. / To all sides I'm curtsying. Cry of infant, cow's roar. / The tsar's daring word. Lashes' whistling, snow full of blood. / The dark word of Love. The pigeons' quiet noise. / The Shooter's black eyes.»
«In vain, Cavalier de Grie, / Do you dream of the full of beauty, / Autocratic - her self not ruling — / And voluptuous Manon. From your rooms we are succeeding / In a flock tired and willing. / They recall us not past the evening. / Be obedient — such is the law. We are coming in ...»