Lasting winters, summertime — they shall never flow together:
They have different traditions; they don’t look the same at all.
For a reason life has paved two long roads: this one, that one,
That one gets your feet exhausted, this one agitates your soul.
Woman in a window frame, in a shade of rosy color,
Says that tears of separation are impossible to heal,
For ahead of her, again, are two roads: this one, that one,
That one beautiful but fruitless, this one probably for real.
Bang your head against a brick — there will be no truer answer,
And no matter if our passions lead to happiness or loss,
All the same, we face ahead two old roads: this one, that one,
And forever we shall need them, like we need our sky and earth.
Не сольются никогда зимы долгие и лета:
У них разные привычки и совсем несхожий вид.
Не случайны на земле две дороги — та и эта,
Та натруживает ноги, эта душу бередит.
Эта женщина в окне в платье розового цвета
Утверждает, что в разлуке невозможно жить без слез,
Потому что перед ней две дороги — та и эта,
Та прекрасна, но напрасна, эта, видимо, всерьез.
Хоть разбейся, хоть умри — не найти верней ответа,
И куда бы наши страсти нас с тобой не завели,
Неизменно впереди две дороги — та и эта,
Без которых невозможно, как без неба и земли.
«As the first signs of winter / Hover above the Neva's expanse, / We compare the scattered leaves / Along its banks to summer's radiance. But I admire these old poplars / Whose branches refuse to shed / Their dry and rusty armor / Till winter's first storms ahead. How to describe our si...»
«There are faces like magnificent portals, / Everywhere the exalted is found in the small. / There are faces like wretched hovels, / Where liver is cooked and rennet boiled. / Some are cold, lifeless faces / Locked up with a dungeon's bars. / Others are towers, where no one has toiled / ...»
«1. In the Rain My umbrella tears and like a bird / Breaks loose, cracking. / A damp hut of rain stirs and steams / Above the world. / And I stand amid the intertwining / Of cool stretched bodies, / As if the rain wished to merge / With me for a while. 2. Autumn Morning Lovers cease ...»
«Storms circle round the village, / And through anguished rain, / Flashes of lightning shatter / The sky once again. / It pours as from a flask, / And above assembled birches / A feast of electricity and rain / In fury and chaos merges. / But we walk along the road / Among the bush...»