The day will come, the warblers’ loud chirps
Will sound in chorus, praising birdsome quirks,
Merrily, a dragonfly will don
Her brightest weekend eyes and keep them on.
Once again the skies will be for birds,
And the honey meadows — for lungworts.
Only those will be dimmed at noon,
Who are moonlit even without the moon,
There will be hands to hold and embrace,
There will be lips to kiss and taste.
Even the wind, after reciting poetry,
Will fall asleep under its alder tree.
День придет, и славок громкий хор
Хорошо прославит птичий вздор,
И, смеясь, наденет стрекоза
Выходные яркие глаза.
Будут снова небеса для птиц,
А Медынь для звонких медуниц,
Будут только те затемнены,
У кого луна и без луны,
Будут руки, чтобы обнимать,
Будут губы, чтобы целовать,
Даже ветер, почитав стихи,
Заночует у своей ольхи.
«All of us are are revellers here, whores, / How mirthless it is for us to be together! / On the walls, flowers and birds / languish in clouds. You are smoking a black pipe, / So strange are the wisps over it. / I put on a tight dress, / To look even slimmer. Forever forgotten windows: ...»
«A boy said to me: "How painful it is!" / And it’s a great pity with him. / Just a short while ago he was content, / Having only heard about sorrow. And now he knows all of it, no less / Than you, wise and old, do. / Dimmed and, it seems, already became / So the pupils of blinding eyes...»
«Dying, I pine over immortality. / Low is the cloud of dusty mist. / Least let it be the naked red devils, / Least let it be a vat of rank tar. Crawl on to me, beguile, / Ye threats from crumbling books. / Only leave me my memory, / Only the memory at the last moment. So that in the har...»
«Just as before: in the canteen windows / Beats the fine blizzard snow. / And I myself haven’t become new, / Yet a man used to come to me. I asked: "What is it you want?" / He answered: "To be with you in hell". / I laughed: "Ah, you shall augur / Disaster for both of us, possibly". B...»