Cast prostrate, in mourning,
Wingless, self-scorning,
Grief in a gust
Flings us, dust upon dust.
We desire not, we dare not,
We believe not, we care not,
No wisdom has worth.
God, do thou dower us,
Kindle, empower us,
Give of thy mirth.
From the languor that clings
Give us wings! Give us wings!
Wings of thy Spirit.
Ниц простертые, унылые,
Безнадежные, бескрылые,
В покаянии, в слезах,—
Мы лежим во прахе прах,
Мы не смеем, не желаем,
И не верим, и не знаем,
И не любим ничего.
Боже, дай нам избавленья,
Дай свободы и стремленья,
Дай веселья Твоего.
О, спаси нас от бессилья,
Дай нам крылья, дай нам крылья,
Крылья духа Твоего!
«O had I known that it ends like this, / the day I sprang to my debut, / that lines and blood together kill. / Chokethroat, strike us through and through! All joking with that cryptic thing / I should have bluntly set aside. / Far, far off was its origin, / doubtful, doubtful my first bi...»
«Near Moscow living, I, this winter, / In blizzard, chill, and snow, / On business when it was essential / Always caught the train to town. When I went out on some occasions / The street was black as pitch. / And through the forests dark I scattered / My tread that creaked at every step....»
«1 In the world bellowing: / Glory to the coming! / What whispers in me: / Glory to the gone be! To you, passing, / That won't counted be, / Not bearing children, / Preceding me. With brush, with key / They argued, with deed / Written — pure / Was their life, with honor. White...»
«2 Generation with lilac / And on Easter in Kremlin, / My hello to generation / In the earth to the knee, And with gray spots — in stars! / Than the reed louder, / To you, speaking: "so-ul" / Will tremble the air. Only having saved the soul / From wealth of family / Without brot...»