Thank you for everything. For the war,
For the revolution and exile.
For the indifferent bright country
Where we now ‘drag out our existence’.
There is no sweeter destiny than to lose everything.
There is no happier fate than to become a vagabond.
And you’ve never been closer to heaven
Than here, tired of boredom
Tired of breathing,
Without strength, without money,
Without love,
In Paris...
За все, за все спасибо. За войну,
За революцию и за изгнанье.
За равнодушно — светлую страну,
Где мы теперь "влачим существованье".
Нет доли сладостней — все потерять.
Нет радостней судьбы — скитальцем стать,
И никогда ты к небу не был ближе,
Чем здесь, устав скучать,
Устав дышать,
Без сил, без денег,
Без любви, в Париже...
«I anguish as the beasts must anguish, / Each vertebra’s in misery, / And my heart feels like a doorbell / When someone gives the bell a squeeze. Vibrate, empty jingle-jangler, / Sound the alarm, jingle-jang… / Time for the scrap heap! And I’m leaving / This life, alive, without a ...»
«And she, who is leaving one’s sweetheart these days, / She must change her pain to the fortitude now / We swear to children, we swear to graves, / That we shan’t be forced to submit by no one!»
«To Tamara Karsavina Your light dance, you are like a song composing — / It told us of glory high — / And on your pale cheeks your blush grows more rosy / And darker and darker your eye And more and more captives with every minute / Forget their own lives mundane, / And in the sounds ...»
«There are better or worse than me / Peoples or gods, and there may be / In everyone — the fire sprouts, / In everyone — the grief of clouds. And everyone will burn the other one, / Then extuinguish the fire, / And everyone will sadly sigh, / While looking into each's eye. Let I'll...»