The East, uncertain, silent falls,
An edgy stillness fills creation…
What is it? Sleep or expectation,
Now near or distant daybreak calls?
The mountain’s crown is turning white,
O’er woods and dales the mist is creeping,
The hamlets doze, the towns are sleeping,
But lift your gaze to heaven’s height…
Behold, above is heaven’s vault:
It seems to blush with secret passion,
More brightly, in more lively fashion
It now succumbs to sun’s assault,
Another minute and through all
The boundless atmosphere’s expanses
You’ll hear great peal as now advances
The bursting sun’s new victory call.
Молчит сомнительно Восток,
Повсюду чуткое молчанье…
Что это? Сон иль ожиданье,
И близок день или далек?
Чуть-чуть белеет темя гор,
Еще в тумане лес и долы,
Спят города и дремлют селы,
Но к небу подымите взор…
Смотрите: полоса видна,
И, словно скрытной страстью рдея,
Она все ярче, все живее —
Вся разгорается она —
Еще минута — и во всей
Неизмеримости эфирной
Раздастся благовест всемирный
Победных солнечных лучей.
«A mouth like blood, green eyes, / And a smile, haggardly evil... / Oh, there’s no hiding it, I see: / You’re the pale moon’s beloved. Even in daytime, over you did not weaken / The night legends of distant childhood, / That is why you are no one’s from birth, / That is why you h...»
«— “In your soul there is ebb and flow!” / You said yourself, you understood it on your own! / Oh, how you, disbelieving the hours, / Could judge me for a moment’s happiness? What shall the impending minute bring? / Whose distant image shall surface out of sleep? / A happy day, and...»
«Why do elks and rabbits cavort through the forest? / Drawing away? / The people ate the bark of the asp, / The green sprouts of firs… / Wives and children wander through the woods, / Collecting birch leaves / For their schi, okroschka and borsch, / Fir tops and silvery moss, — / ...»
«Always a slave, but with the birthplace of kings on / a swarthy chest. / And a state seal in exchange for / an earring. / A young woman with a sword, who never conceived, / Or a midwife — the crone of mutin...»