One person said: «One life is not enough»
Another said, «The goal we can't handle»
A woman, habitually and dull,
Not listening, has rocked the cradle.
The fading ropes creaked so much,
Fell into silence — more gently every time! —
As if the angels sang for her from heaven
And talked about love.
Один сказал: «Нам этой жизни мало»,
Другой сказал: «Недостижима цель»,
А женщина привычно и устало,
Не слушая, качала колыбель.
И стертые веревки так скрипели,
Так умолкали — каждый раз нежнее! —
Как будто ангелы ей с неба пели
И о любви беседовали с ней.
«It’s endless — the heavy, amber day! / Impossible grief, pointless waiting! / And the silver-voiced deer, again, / Under the Northern Lights, belling. And I think there’s cold snow / A blue font for the poor and ill, / And a little sledge’s headlong flow, / To the ancient chime ...»
«For O. A. Glebova-Sudeikina "What do you see, on the wall, dimly alive, / At that hour when the sunset eats the sky? A seagull, on a blue cloth of waters, / Or perhaps it’s those Florentine gardens? Or is it Tsarskoye Seloe’s vast view, / Where terror stepped out before you? Or that on...»
«Sunlight fills my room / With hot dust, lucent, grey. / I wake, and I remember: / Today is your saint’s day. / That’s why even the snow / Is warm beyond the window, / That’s why, sleeplessly, / Like a communicant, I slept.»
«Evening hours at the desk, / The page irremediably white, / The mimosa’s scent is of Nice, warmth, / Over the moon some vast bird flies. And, twining my braids for night, / As if I must wear them tomorrow, / I look from the window at sand-dunes, sea, / Free of sorrow. How much power ...»