Did one’s heart not languish
With desire for the thunderstorm.
Through white-scarlet Hashes?
But now it has fallen in love with
The turquoise’s fathomlessness.
With its weary eyes!..
All that there is of azure
Has poured itself into the rays
On gold-embroidered ripples;
All that there is of unstorminess
And with a caress in its eyes has
Poured itself into green-waving gardens...
From an abode foreign to it
Only the thunderstorm looks
Into the turquoise panes...
Sorrowful eyes
No longer stern,
Did you love, will you forgive?..
Сердце ль не томилося
Желанием грозы,
Сквозь вспышки бело-алые?
А теперь влюбилося
В бездонность бирюзы,
В ее глаза усталые.
Все, что есть лазурного,
Излилося в лучах
На зыби златошвейные,
Все, что там безбурного
И с ласкою в очах, —
В сады зеленовейные.
В стекла бирюзовые
Одна глядит гроза
Из чуждой ей обители…
Больше не суровые,
Печальные глаза,
Любили ль вы, простите ли?..
«For a reason winds blowed, / For a reason it was storm. / Quiet light has been endowed / To my eyes by secret form. I was sad by someone’s vernal / Tenderness in dark blue haze. / It’s because of the eternal / Undiscovered dwelling place. Silent milk’ness does not worry, / Stel...»
«Do you stay alive, my dear old woman? / I’m alive as well, send a regard! / Let spring light ineffable, superhuman / Be shed over your old little hut. They do write that you, concealing fear / In a grief for me with sense of doom, / Very often on the road appear / In a worn out...»
«In that land that has the yellow dead-nettle, / And the dry wattle-fence, / Village huts find under willows shelter, / Huts of loneliness. / In the dale beyond ravine's blue thicket, / In the vert of fields, / Lies a sandy road, long and wicked, — / ...»
«See you later, friend mine, see you later. / Darling, you are always in my soul. / Destined in the heaven, our breakup / Promises reunion down the road. Bye with not a hand touch, not a farewell, / Don’t lament, quit saddening your eyes, — / In this province, death is nothing rare. We...»