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.
«It is true, is it not, that our souls are not used yet to parting? / With a shimmer of glimmering wings they each other call! / Someone higher parted the arms, tenderly interwoven, / But forgot the remembering souls. Every evening, lit up by the will of a sorceress gentle. / Every evening, ...»
«Did not love, did not weep. Oh no, did not love, but regardless / I have showed in the shadows the beloved likeness to you. / In our sleep all things did not appear like love: / No cause, no clues. From the evening hall only to us nodded this image, / Only we — you and me — to it pitif...»
«Behind the walls once again / Bells' whining is heard. / Several streets between us, / And several words! / The city in darkness sleeps, / Silver sickle appears, / The falling snow scatters / Your collar with stars. / Do your wounds ail for a long time? / Do the calls wound of the...»
«The exhausted world sighs of confusion, / The pink even streams oblivion... / We were parted by shadows, not people, / Oh my dearest boy, heart of mine! === Walls are towering, in a fog dressing, / Spear was dropped without strength by the sun.. / In the evening world I'm cold. Where are...»