All along the Smolensk Road trees rise and rise and rise.
All along the Smolensk Road posts stand mid trees, mid trees.
Just above the Smolensk Road I think those are your eyes:
Two cold evening stars, my two blue destinies.
All along the Smolensk Road the snow slaps face, slaps face.
We are driven from homes because work can't wait, can't wait.
But had there been more force in the pull of your embrace,
A shorter road might have conveyed me through the night.
All along the Smolensk Road trees rise and rise and rise.
All along the Smolensk Road posts hum till dawn, till dawn.
Just above the Smolensk Road I think those are your eyes:
Two cold evening stars, two blue stars look down, look down.
Ж. Б.
По Смоленской дороге — леса, леса, леса.
По Смоленской дороге — столбы, столбы, столбы.
Над Смоленской дорогою, как твои глаза, —
две вечерних звезды — голубых моих судьбы.
По Смоленской дороге — метель в лицо, в лицо,
все нас из дому гонят дела, дела, дела.
Может, будь понадежнее рук твоих кольцо —
покороче б, наверно, дорога мне легла.
По Смоленской дороге — леса, леса, леса.
По Смоленской дороге — столбы гудят, гудят.
На дорогу Смоленскую, как твои глаза,
две холодных звезды голубых глядят, глядят.
«The grove in the fall — weeping amber, the circling of leaves, / the dark slow water. / The season of fall, and the temple of quietened trees, / the nature's high altar. The season of fall, what's your promise? I live in suspense, / in anticipation / of some future date, of the meeting,...»
«I can't force a line. I am finished. Run dry. / Try this way, and that — everything is awry. / The river is freezing, and grey is the sky — / the season of birdlessness, ice and stagnation. / All kinds of boloney, in endless supply, / creep into my thinking and feed my frustration, / ...»
«OK, it has happened. Your cranes have returned. / The air of hunting is filling your sheets. / Your powder's dry in your powder-horns. / Oh, well, this is great! / / And even the stars play in favor of you, / and all constellations play into your hands, / in daring thoughts you're a n...»
«Everybody chooses for himself / His religion, loyalties and women. / Service to a prophet, or a demon, / Everybody chooses for himself. Everybody chooses on his own / The word for loving and the word for praying, / A dueling foil, a sword for dragonslaying. / Everybody chooses on his ...»