Sonnet
The life’s chance and creative spirit
United painfully in you,
And midst the beauty’s hitting views
There’s not so airy and exquisite…
In the world desert’s sandy grounds —
Where all’s a host, you fell in love
With cosmos of the different sounds
And flowers of troubled life.
Untouchable, transparent wholly!
We’re pined by you, oh, goddess holly,
When, through pale slots, you, vaguely viewed,
Such grasp all our thought and body,
That if to fall in love with you —
Love will be mad for everybody.
Сонет
Творящий дух и жизни случай
В тебе мучительно слиты,
И меж намёков красоты
Нет утончённей и летучей…
В пустыне мира зыбко-жгучей,
Где мир — мираж, влюбилась ты
В неразрешённость разнозвучий
И в беспокойные цветы.
Неощутима и незрима,
Ты нас томишь, боготворима,
В просветы бледные сквозя,
Так неотвязно, неотдумно,
Что, полюбив тебя, нельзя
Не полюбить тебя безумно.
«How I crave immortality, dying. / Clouds of dust come low from afar... / Let the naked red devils come flying, / With the cauldrons of foul-smelling tar. Playing tricks, crawl up to me, lurking, / Threats from books, all tattered and bent, / Only leave me my memory working / Just my mem...»
«He absolved me of sin and he quieted down. / The violet dusk blew out the flame. / The dark prayer stole fell spreading around / My shoulders, my head and my frame. Is this not the voice that said: “Maiden! arise…” / The heart beats fast, at a loss, / The touch of the hand as it abs...»
«Books and a pencil case in a strap, as I / Sauntered home, with the school receding. / These lindens, I’m sure, won’t forget the time, / My merry boy, of our very first meeting. / Only now that little cygnet, once gray, / Changed, becoming a haughty swan, / And sorrow descended like ...»
«Ever since St. Agrafena’s day, / He has kept my crimson shawl. / He gloats like King David, enthralled. / His frosty cell has walls of gray, / And no one talks to him at all. I’ll go to his door and stand in his way, / “Return my shawl to me!” I’ll say. »