«My feather was brushing the top of the carriage / And I was looking into his eyes. / There was a pining in my heart / I could not recognise. / / The evening was windless, chained / Solidly under a cloudbank, / As if someone had drawn the Bois de Boulogne / In an old album in black I...»
«Gift haphazard, unavailing, / Life, why wert thou given to me? / Why art thou to death unfailing / Sentencing by dark destiny? / / Who in harsh despotic fashion / Once from Nothing called me out, / Filled my soul with burning passion / Vexed and shook my mind with doubt? / / I ...»
«So many requests, always, from a lover! / None when they fall out of love. / I’m glad the water does not move / Under the colourless ice of the river. / / And I’ll stand — God help me! — on this ice, / However light and brittle it is, / And you… take care of our letters, / ...»
«For O. A. Glebova-Sudeikina / / What do you see on the wall, your eyes screwed up, / When in the sky the sunset’s burning late? / / Do you see a seagull on the water’s blue / Cloth, or gardens by the Arno? / / Or the great lake of Tsarkoye Selo / Where terror stepped in fro...»