In my comfortable carriage, buoyed by its ellipsychic bearings,
I love to visit at golden midday the lady's club for tea time,
Where women so deliciously gossip about social trash and quarrels,
Where the foolish rightfully are unfoolish, the wise always stupid.
Oh all you fashionable subjects, from you my sorrow will unfurl.
Trembling lips with irony quiver like jelly made of wild strawberries.
"The natives look just like pineapples and pineapples resemble natives."
The Creole woman's quips are witty, recalling her exotic landscapes.
The mayor's wife begins yawning, leaning over the silent piano,
Looks out the window where fermenting July sensuously stumbles.
Around us fan the golden cobwebs, of spleen's lazy tribes a symbol.
Having thus compared myself, isn't this why I love the Lady's Club?
Я в комфортабельной карете, на эллипсических рессорах,
Люблю заехать в златополдень на чашку чая в женоклуб,
Где вкусно сплетничают дамы о светских дрязгах и о ссорах,
Где глупый вправе слыть не глупым, но умный непременно глуп...
О, фешенебельные темы! от вас тоска моя развеется!
Трепещут губы иронично, как земляничное желе...
«Индейцы — точно ананасы, и ананасы — как индейцы...»
Острит креолка, вспоминая о экзотической земле.
Градоначальница зевает, облокотясь на пианино,
И смотрит в окна, где истомно бредет хмелеющий Июль.
Вкруг золотеет паутина, как символ ленных пленов сплина,
И я, сравнив себя со всеми, люблю клуб дам не потому ль?..
«There's Prince Diego, falling in a love, / He dozed and he laid his head midst table's stuff, / He lost his goblet, cast from silver's milk, / And freed his jacket of a crimson silk. And he is seeing the transparent stream, / And on the stream — the boat white as steam, / In which the ...»
«Here I'm alone in evening hour calm, / I'll only think of you, I feel no qualm. I'll take up book but what I'll read is "she", / And soul again is drunk, distraught with thee. I'll throw myself on old and creaky bed, / The pillow burns... No, I won't sleep, I'll tread. I'll walk to window, ...»
«All of us — righteous and sinners, / Born in prison, raised at the altar, / All of us are funny actors / In the theater of the Creator. The Lord sits on His throne, / Merrily follows the show. / Brightly on His sumptuous gown / Sparkles and golden stars glow. Oh, how easy and pleasan...»
«All deserts are one tribe, from the beginning / of time, but Arabia, Syria, Gobi — / they're only ripples of the vast Sahara / wave that roared its satanic spite. The Red Sea heaves, and the Persian Gulf, / and Pamir stands thick with snow, / but Sahara's sand-floods / run straight to...»