“Everything’s the same old way,” she said tenderly:
“The same old way.”
But I gazed hopelessly into her eyes,
The same old way.
Smiling, she kissed me softly
The same old way,
But something still was missing there,
The same old way.
«Всё по–старому... — сказала нежно.
Всё по–старому...»
Но смотрел я в очи безнадежно —
Всё по–старому...
Улыбалась, мягко целовала —
Всё по–старому...
Но чего–то все недоставало —
Всё по–старому!..
«Akhmatova addresses Blok. You were the first to stand there at the source / With dry and deathly glower smirked. / And how with empty gaze you worked, / That heavy gaze of midnight’s slickened course. But dreadful years will pass on through, / And soon again you won’t be old — / An...»
«My thoughts turn again to the village that bore me / And grove filled with limes and that quivering swing, / Where mist-wrapped the violets turned azure before me, / Where timid, unwonted, my thoughts were in spring. I want to retrieve my lost softness and meekness, / Again be a child, or a...»
«Our joy is always something we remember. / It’s everywhere. Maybe it is here – / The garden by the barn in late September / Where at the window pure air casts its spear. And in the heavens, azure and eternal, / Arises gilt-edged cloud I’ve long observed… / We see a little, know pe...»
«So, who can know what makes for glory! / What did he pay to tell the story, / For opportunity or grace / So sly and wise to cause furore, / Present mysterious, silent face / And to those dainty feet give chase?»