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.
«The house next door has yellow windows. / In the evening, in the evening / Its pensive bolts screech in their hinges, / And people to its gates come streaming. The gates are shut to hold them back, / And on the wall, and on the wall, / Someone unmoving, someone black / Counts people in ...»
«In taverns and winding side streets, / In an electric daydream / I sought the endlessly lovely, / The eternally smitten with speech. The streets were drunk with screams. / There were suns in the shining vitrines. / The beauty of the women's faces! / The proud gazes of the men! These we...»
«A girl sang in the church choir / Of all who are weary in foreign lands, / Of all the ships gone out to sea, / Of all who have forgotten their joy. Thus her voice sang, flying up to the dome, / And a ray of sun shone on her white shoulder, / And from the darkness all watched and listened ...»
«There a man burned / Fet How difficult to wander in the crowd / Pretending every day to be alive, / Recounting to the not-yet-living / The passions' tragic play. And, peering into nightmares, / Find order in disordered swirls of feeling, / So that by art's anemic glow / They recogniz...»