You will not grasp her with your mind
or cover with a common label,
for Russia is one of a kind —
believe in her, if you are able...
Умом — Россию не понять,
Аршином общим не измерить:
У ней особенная стать —
В Россию можно только верить.
«She’s lilac in Crimea; Paris though is whiter: / My Moscow spring’s more modest, and on heart is lighter – / She’s like a weeping damsel. But, robber in a coat, / She dashes through the rain from bakery clutching note, / But suddenly when emerald slippered foot is sliding / She los...»
«A fine and wingèd beast was I, / I lived in God the Father’s dwelling, / The heavenly scent of lilies my / Delight and nourishment compelling. To blessed motherland was bound, / I’d gained possession of my manhood, / I loved the prayerful Slavic sound / That chimed aloud in desert ...»
«To V. Novokshenov Dwarf birches are what you and I are. / We sit like splinters tight together / beneath the nail of frosty finger. And so the Khanate, permafrosted, / in crudeness beats all it’s accosted. / It’s not ashamed to us embarrass — / does that surprise you, trees of Pari...»
«The sundial traces passing time in shadow. / And through the waves there cuts a passing ship. / And I know nothing better than this tableau — / The sheen of spires, the gleam of waters’ grip! Lane narrows like a slit as it grows darker. / The sparrows perch upon the trolley wires. / M...»