Tyranny itself seduced you.
Its sword has mown you like reeds.
The Law is incorruptibly impartial.
The LawТs infallible in word and deed.
Disloyalty is shunned by our people.
TheyТll scorn your names. Abuse will heap.
Your sons will never know your exploit,
hidden in time, a rotten carcass buried deep!
Victims of foolish notions!
Perhaps you had a youthful vision!
Perhaps you thought you saw
your thin blood trickling,
covering the ice-caps
as if alone it could thaw
that age-old polar face.
Why, it would scarce have time to sparkle
when up thereТd gust a breath of iron winter
to murder every tiny trace!
Декабристам
Вас развратило Самовластье,
И меч его вас поразил, —
И в неподкупном беспристрастье
Сей приговор Закон скрепил.
Народ, чуждаясь вероломства,
Поносит ваши имена —
И ваша память от потомства,
Как труп в земле, схоронена.
О жертвы мысли безрассудной,
Вы уповали, может быть,
Что станет вашей крови скудной,
Чтоб вечный полюс растопить!
Едва, дымясь, она сверкнула,
На вековой громаде льдов,
Зима железная дохнула —
И не осталось и следов.
«A golden dovecote by the water, / A comforting, alluring-green; / The salty breeze wipes out the sheen / From gondolas, restoring order. Strange, gentle people everywhere. / Bright souvenirs in every window: / A winged lion on a pillow / And on the column in the square. Old, faded canv...»
«The prayer rug is all worn out, / The room is gloomy, bleak and cold / And dark-green ivy twines around / The window on the outside wall. The roses stream a fragrant scent, / The icon lamp grows dim and sputters. / Embellished by a loving hand, / The storage chests are bright with flowe...»
«Everything’s the same: the snow / Falls, across the window sweeping, / And I’m no different than before, / Though a man had come to see me. I asked him then: “What are you after?” / “To be in hell with you,” he said. / And I responded to him with laughter, / “You’re doom...»
«I went in to see the poet. / Noon exactly. On a Sunday. / The spacious room is quiet. / But outside, there’s bitter frost And the raspberry-colored sun / Over shaggy, blue smoke… / The gaze of my silent host / Is clear and focused on me! The look in his eyes is such / That everyo...»