Holy night has climbed across the sky,
joyful, dear day,
a golden coverlet, is folded back,
that cover cast across the chasm.
Like a vision, the outer world has faded.
Like an orphan, man stands impotent and naked,
facing the dark abyss.
Abandoned to himself, his intellect is obsolete,
his thought is homeless.
In a great ravine heТs immersed,
in his soul,
and from outside thereТs no support,
no limit...
Like a long-gone dream,
that which was life-bright appears,
and in the alien,
in the unresolved,
in the nocturnal,
his birthright looms clear.
Святая ночь на небосклон взошла,
И день отрадный, день любезный,
Как золотой покров, она свила,
Покров, накинутый над бездной.
И, как виденье, внешний мир ушел...
И человек, как сирота бездомный,
Стоит теперь и немощен и гол,
Лицом к лицу пред пропастию темной.
На самого себя покинут он –
Упра́зднен ум, и мысль осиротела –
В душе своей, как в бездне, погружен,
И нет извне опоры, ни предела...
И чудится давно минувшим сном
Ему теперь всё светлое, живое...
И в чуждом, неразгаданном ночном
Он узнает наследье родовое.
«The fifth of the year’s seasons / One can’t extol it enough. / Breathe before freedom ceases, / All because, it is — love. / High up, the sky elevates, / The contours of things are light, / And the body won’t celebrate / The anniversary of its plight.»
«I myself had all the say / In my dear friend’s destiny: / On Annunciation Day, / I released him pensively. / But the blue-grey dove decided / To soar back to me, / Now, with archangel’s robe alighted, / The room gleams brilliantly.»
«You dreamt of me, I knew, / And hence, I couldn’t sleep. / The lantern flickered blue / And there, my path ran steep. You saw tsarina’s garden / And palace, and approached / The fence’s old black pattern, / Next to the stony porch. You ran, not knowing the way, / And thought: ...»
«A frigid sun. From the parade, / The soldiers march away. / I cannot feel my worry’s weight / This January day. I recognize each branch in sight / And every silhouette. / In awe, I watch the crimson light / Drip through the frosty net. An off-white house stood here then, / Its porc...»