In every church bell there is spite
In every red ribbon there is fire
In every young woman shivering
In every young man his own steed.
В каждом колоколе злоба
В каждой ленточке огонь
В каждой девочке зазноба
В каждом мальчике свой конь.
«“Lilac ice cream! Lilac ice cream! / Half a portion a dime! One bit for a scoop! / Have some, sir! Buy one, madam, / No need to argue, / It’s as cheap as you need. Something just made for you, / The great cuisine of the streets. “I’ve got ...»
«I, the genius Severyanin, / Intoxicated with my triumph, / I am screened in every town, / I am confirmed by every heart. From Bayazeh to far Port Arthur / I have drawn a stubborn line, / I have conquered literature / And aimed my thunder at the throne. A year ago I said, “I’ll be!...»
«The piano, trembling, makes the lips grow dry. / This frenzy cuts you down and overthrows. / You whisper: Dearest! — No, o no! I cry — / Here, with the music?! — Yet, can one be closer, Than in the twilight, flinging chords in sets — / Like diaries into the fire — in sets, complet...»
«Do I not know that groping for light in darkness, / Darkness will never find the hidden door? / And that to me — a freak — the happiness of thousands / Is as remote as pleasures of a score? Does not the five-year plan decide my measure? / Does it not raise me high, does it not sink me l...»