When you’re drunk, you’re so much fun —
Your rambling tales make no sense.
The early fall arrived and hung
Bright yellow flags upon the elms.
In the land of fraud and guile,
We have strayed, and now, repent,
But, what are these fictitious smiles,
On our lips, so strangely bent?
Not happiness or peace of mind,
A biting torment — we pursued…
I will not leave my friend behind, —
So tender and so dissolute.
Мне с тобою пьяным весело —
Смысла нет в твоих рассказах.
Осень ранняя развесила
Флаги жёлтые на вязах.
Оба мы в страну обманную
Забрели и горько каемся,
Но зачем улыбкой странною
И застывшей улыбаемся?
Мы хотели муки жалящей
Вместо счастья безмятежного…
Не покину я товарища
И беспутного и нежного.
«And we'll have to walk different ways: / those — to people, the others — to silence, / but we'll walk together / when it's time for dying. A star will rise above the desert, / the sky will rise so high, / and song just for the first time / will be heard by us!»
«My verse, which was conceived so very early / That of my calling I was unaware, / Which burst, like sparklers, glittering and whirling, / Like fountains in the air, Which burglarized, like little devils, flying / Into the dreamy shrine with incense spread, / My verse, that sang of being y...»
«Grey is the morning, the morning is misty, / Mournful are grasslands all covered with snow. / Out of your wish you’ll get thoughts light and wispy, / Images, feelings you lost long ago. You will remember the passionate speeches, / Glances you longed for and keenly desired, / Greetings...»
«The dull melancholy, and no one to offer a hand / In times of a destitute feeling… / The wishing!.. What good is to wish with no merit or end? / And years keep on passing — the ones most appealing! To love... but then whom?.. For a time, isn’t worth the travail; / Forever, no love has...»