A pale moon, on the wane,
The air sonorous, dead and clear,
And on the naked, nippy willow
Murmurs a wilted leaf.
Catches frost, gets heavier
In the abyss of a quiet pond.
Darkens and thickens
The stirless water.
A pale moon on the wane
Is lying dead,
And on the naked black willow
The cold ray doesn’t tremble.
The sky shimmers, dear,
As the magical earth,
As the inaccessible fields
Of a lost paradise.
Бледный месяц — на ущербе.
Воздух — звонок, мертв и чист.
И на голой, зябкой вербе
Шелестит увядший лист.
Замерзает, тяжелеет
В бездне тихого пруда,
И чернеет и густеет
Неподвижная вода.
Бледный месяц на ущербе
Умирающий лежит,
И на голой черной вербе
Луч холодный не дрожит.
Блещет небо, догорая,
Как волшебная земля,
Как потерянного рая
Недоступные поля.
«Sun — is one, but treads all over the cities, / Sun — is mine. I shan't give it to anybody. Not for an hour, for ray, nor for glance. — Nobody, never! / Then let cities vanish in the night unchangeable. I'll take it in hands! — To avoid its circling in round! / Besides of burning ...»
«There’s only one sun — but it travels the world everyday. / This sun is all mine and I won’t ever give it away. I will share not an hour of warmth, not a beam of its light! / I’ll let cities perish in the constant, unchangeable night! I will hold it up with my hands, till it ceases to ...»
«O, do the Russians long for war? / Ask of the stillness evermore, / Ask of the field, or ask the breeze, / And ask the birch and poplar trees. / / Ask of the soldiers who now lie / Beneath the birch trees and the sky, / And let their sons tell you once more / Whether the Russians...»
«Snow, snow, all the world over, / Snow to the world’s end swirling, / A candle was burning on the table, / A candle burning. As midges swarming in summer / Fly to the candle flame, / The snowflakes swarming outside / Flew at the window frame. The blizzard etched on the window / Fro...»