You may live uncleanly and absurdly:
Bullies’ giggles, rattles in the dust,
Open is your street, and foul overtly:
Laughter of a prostitute, like rust.
Dirty girlfriends, swarming, crazy psychos,
Anger, vice, deep poverty, and filth,
How can there appear in such a cycle
Dreams and inspirations to fulfill?
Still, they’ll come! They always keep arriving!
People’s life conjures creative ways.
Just above the blurry foam, alive now,
Worldwide beauty, built upon its waves.
Ты живёшь безумно и погано,
Улица, доступная для всех, —
Грохот пыльный, хохот хулигана,
Пьяной проститутки ржавый смех.
Копошатся мерзкие подруги, —
Злоба, грязь, порочность, нищета.
Как возникнуть может в этом круге
Вдохновенно-светлая мечта?
Но возникнет! Вечно возникает!
Жизнь народа творчества полна,
И над мутной пеной воздвигает
Красоту всемирную волна.
«Grass was pushing through earth by the graves, we’ve forgot. / We’ve forgot yesterday… We’ve forgot every word… / Only silence around us sings… Whether You’re not alive? Whether You’re not a flash / Due this death of them gone, of them burned to the ash’s? / ...»
«Halls grew darker and somehow faded. / Grates of windows drowned in black. / Every knight, every beautiful lady / Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick." And the king, very silent and frowned, / Passed the doors, lost of pages and slaves... / Every word, that by chance cast around,...»
«Here we live in ancient chambers / By the water strings. / Here at spring the gladness rambles, / And the river sings. As the gaiety's first message, / With the first spring gales, / There will pour the blazing azure / In the doors of cells. And quite full of sacred shudder / Of the...»
«He, who was born in stagnant year / Does not remember own way. / We, kids of Russia's years of fear, / Remember every night and day. Years that burned everything to ashes! / Do you bring madness or grace? / The war's and freedom's fire flashes / Left bloody light on every face. We are...»