Dawn and rain. A dense fog in the park,
And in the window – an unneeded candle,
An open and forgotten trunk,
Her shoulders that barely tremble.
No word about us, no word about the past.
It’s such a trifle – what happened at the end!
When solitude for two – it is so sad...
– The sun, with a slanting ray, at last,
Turned into gold the silver tress.
Рассвет и дождь. В саду густой туман,
Ненужные на окнах свечи,
Раскрытый и забытый чемодан,
Чуть вздрагивающие плечи.
Ни слова о себе, ни слова о былом.
Какие мелочи - все то, что с нами было!
Как грустно одиночество вдвоем...
— И солнце, наконец, косым лучом
Прядь серебристую позолотило.
«So many stones flew at me all times, / That no one of them now is feared. / Into the tower, peer to the highest ones, / Is changed a trap, before for me contrived. / I grateful to builders of high walls, / Let them be missed by sadness and by troubles. / From here I early see the scarlet...»
«It wasn’t at all that quite mysterious painter, / Which has well-pictured Hoffmann’s misty dreams, — / From that unknown and far spring, it seems, / I can observe a plantain in its flatter. And it was greening — our town, plain, / Trimming its steps, like some wings, wide and soari...»
«Thank you, God: I dream of him more seldom, / And don’t see him now in every place, / The white path with clouds has been laden, / Easy shadows o’er the waters raced. / And all day the chime of bells arose / O’er the ocean of the ploughed soil; / Here the toll is best-heard from Sa...»
«There are the words that couldn’t be twice said, / He, who said once, spent out all his senses. / Only two things have never their end — / The heavens’ blue and the Creator’s mercy.»