In 1913, still in bliss not understanding
The future that awaited us,
Our champagne glasses raised at toast’s demanding,
The New Year thus we met with cheerful fuss.
How old we have become! The years have glided,
The years have glided — and we missed them as they passed…
But yet this free and deathly air’s abided
And still, I’m sure, our recollections hold them fast —
That winter’s happiness and wine and roses.
And so we must through leaden gloom,
As fate to deadened eyes exposes,
Behold a lost world in its tomb.
В тринадцатом году ещё не понимая,
Что будет с нами, что нас ждёт, —
Шампанского бокалы подымая,
Мы весело встречали — Новый Год.
Как мы состарились! Проходят годы,
Проходят годы — их не замечаем мы…
Но этот воздух смерти и свободы,
И розы, и вино, и холод той зимы
Никто не позабыл, о я уверен.
Должно быть, сквозь свинцовый мрак
На мир, что навсегда потерян,
Глаза уме́рших смотрят так.
«Melting in the air above the valley, / distant bells are chiming / like flocks of flapping cranes, / dying away in the rustle of leaves, / bright, like the swelling sea of spring, / crystal-like, like day at a distance, / while faster, quieter, / shadow lies around the valley.»
«I love a thunder — storm at the beginning of May, / when spring’s first thunder, / as though play, in a frolic, / rumbles in the blue sky. The young peals of thunder rattle. / Now it is drizzling, / dust is flying, pearls are hanging, / and the sun is gilding the treads. A swift to...»
«I love a thunder-storm in May / When here the first spring’s early thunder, / As though a joyful part of play, / Roars in the blue sky in its grandeur. Being strong and young, it’s thundering, / Look, rain has started, dust is flying, / The rainy pearls have hung as strings, / The s...»
«I'm thinking about morning of Your glory, / About morning of your days, / When suddenly You as demon had awoken / From dream, as god to every men. I'm thinking about brows on Your face, / Met together, as the torches of Your eyes, / And the lava of Your blood of ages, / That along Your ...»