The little girl with the
Green belt is bustling
About, planting two poor
Yellow seedlings in the sand.
They don’t stand up — and that’s
It: isn’t the sand glad of them?
But the sun is already in the
West and the garden turns golden.
The child shakes one small
White hand after another:
“As soon as I make a little
Hole it fills in...
Nasty, stubborn things!
Hush! little daughter, if
They find the holes unpleasant
We will take away their stems.
There, see? All’s for the
Best, cheer up, child! On
That shifting hillock two
Small stars have caught fire.
Shaggy, saffron little stars.
Made out of flowers...
There, my precious, your
Little garden is ready.
Her small feet will cease jumping
And all her laughter will
Pour out, but when night comes,
God has beds for everybody...
You will fall asleep, little
Angel-girl, in down, on your
Elbow... and the two yellow
Seedlings will lie flat in the sand.
Захлопоталась девочка
В зелёном кушаке,
Два желтые обсевочка
Сажая на песке.
Не держатся и на-поди:
Песок ли им не рад?..
А солнце уж на западе
И золотится сад.
За ручкой ручку белую
Малютка отряхнёт:
«Чуть ямочку проделаю,
Ее и заметёт…
Противные, упрямые!»
— Молчи, малютка дочь,
Коль неприятны ямы им,
Мы стебельки им прочь.
Вот видишь ли: всё к лучшему —
Дитя, развеселись,
По холмику зыбучему
Две звёздочки зажглись.
Мохнатые, шафранные
Звездинки из цветов…
Ну вот, моя желанная,
И садик твой готов.
Отпрыгаются ноженьки,
Весь высыплется смех,
А ночь придёт — у Боженьки
Постельки есть для всех…
Заснёшь ты, ангел-девочка,
В пуху, на локотке…
А жёлтых два обсевочка
Распластаны в песке.
«Grant me years of sickness and fever; / make me sleepless for months at a time. / Take away my child and my lover / and the mysterious gift of rhyme. / As the air grows ever more sultry, / this is the prayer I recite: / and may the storm cloud over my country / be shot through with ray...»
«“You are with me once more, Autumn my friend!” / Annensky Let any, who will, still bask in the south / On the paradisal sand, / It’s northerly here — and this year of the north / Autumn will be my friend. I’ll live, in a dream, in a stranger’s house / Where perhaps I have di...»
«So again we triumph! / Again we do not come! / Our speeches silent, / Our words, dumb. / Our eyes that have not met / Again, are lost; / And only tears forget / The grip of frost. / A wild-rose bush near Moscow / Knows something of / This pain that will be called / Immortal lov...»
«Black and enduring seperation / I share equally with you. / Why weep? Give me your hand, / Promise me you will come again. / You and I are like high / Mountains and we can’t move closer. / Just send me word / At midnight sometime through the stars.»