After plodding year after year
through towns in an alien land,
we have ground enough to despair —
and despair is where we must end.
For despair is our final refuge —
as if, midwinter, we had come
from Vespers in a nearby church,
through Russian snow, to our home.
За столько лет такого маянья
По городам чужой земли
Есть от чего прийти в отчаянье,
И мы в отчаянье пришли.
— В отчаянье, в приют последний,
Как будто мы пришли зимой
С вечерни в церковке соседней,
По снегу русскому, домой.
«There, where seas are ever crashing, / On the shores of lonely cliffs, / And where the moon glows warmer, / Through sweet hours of twilight mist, / And, wherein the harem, revelling, / The Mussluman's days pass by, / An enchantress, with caresses, / Handed me a talisman. And, ca...»
«Where the sea forever dances / Over lonely cliff and dune, / Where sweet twilight's vapor glances / In a warmer-glowing moon, / Where with the seraglio's graces / Daylong toys the Mussulman, / An enchantress 'mid embraces / Handed me a talisman. 'Mid embraces I was bidden: / "Guard ...»
«Where the sea — eternal stormer — / Splashes on deserted scaurs, / Where the moon is shining warmer / At the tender nightfall hours, / Where bondmaidens serve in duty / To the reveling mussulman, / There, caressing me, a beauty / Handed me a talisman. And she spoke to me, caressin...»
«I am no more that passioned lover, / Once the world's most marvelous face: / My spring and wondrous golden summer / Forever gone without a trace. / Oh Cupid, god of days of yore! / I was your faithful servant then; / If only to be born once more, / Oh how I'd serve you yet again!»