I walk and think of various things,
For myself weave a funeral wreath,
And in this hideous world I am
A stylishly solitary man.
But suddenly I hear: war, ideas,
The last trump, the twentieth century...
And growing cold, I then recall —
I am a human being no more.
Spasmic jerking or an idiot,
Useless freak of nature —
"Up with...", yells the patriot,
"Down with...", comes the rebel's roar.
Иду — и думаю о разном.
Плету на гроб себе венок,
И в этом мире безобразном
Благообразно одинок.
Но слышу вдруг: война, идея,
Последний бой, двадцатый век.
И вспоминаю, холодея,
Что я уже не человек,
А судорога идиота,
Природой созданная зря, —
«Ур-ра!» из пасти патриота,
«Долой!» из глотки бунтаря.
«No more searching footsteps in the groves, / No more strolling in the leaves... / With your flaxen hair like a sheaf of oats / You have disappeared from my dreams. Skin in crimson berry juices splashes; / You were sweet, and beautiful, and kind! / Like the dusk, last sunrays in your lashe...»
«This evening's light is golden bright, / The April's coolness is so tender, / Though you are many years too late, / I still do welcome you to enter. Right next to me why don't you sit / And look with happy eyes around. / This little notebook has in it / The poems written in my childhood...»
«The two of us won't share a glass together / Be it of water or of sweet red wine; / We won't be kissing, in the morning either / Nor, late at night, enjoy an evening shine... / You breathe the sun, I breathe the moon; however / We are united by one love forever. I always have with me my t...»
«Glory to you, inconsolable ache / Yesterday passed away the grey-eyed king. / Late autumn evening was sultry and red / My husband returned and quietly said: "After the hunt it all happened, you know, / His body was found right by the oak grove. / He was too young to be taken away… / P...»