Her Torch was fiery and scarlet,
He Was thawing and twilight snow: He
Looked at Her and burned away, and
Burned away out of untasted blisses.
The bosom of death opened blackly,
He did not hear the summons:
Live! And the hopeless flame of
Love was left alone in the ether.
And on the bed of the deep pit,
Covered to the ground with a
Foaming chasuble, the lonely Widow
Dreams — and the chill Waters boil...
Ее факел был огнен и ал,
Он был талый и сумрачный снег:
Он глядел на нее и сгорал,
И сгорал от непознанных нег.
Лоно смерти открылось черно —
Он не слышал призыва: «Живи»,
И осталось в эфире одно
Безнадежное пламя любви.
Да на ложе глубокого рва,
Пенной ризой покрыта до пят,
Одинокая грезит вдова —
И холодные воды кипят…
«Like a river, I was turned off course / By the cruel and brutal epoch. / My life was counterfeited and it flowed / Into another channel past the other channel. / I never got to know my native shores. / Oh, just how many spectacles I missed, / The curtains rose without me / And without ...»
«Like someone deaf, blind and mute, / For whom, the only thing left / Is the sense of smell, I breathe in / Dampness, mold, inclement weather / And fleeting, transient smoke...»
«Pray before sleep, / That you don’t wake up famous.»
«...And I simply wouldn’t come near it, / Renouncing all earthly goods. / “This place’s” guardian spirit / Became a snag in the woods. In this life, we are all merely guests, / Life, itself, is a habit, no doubt. / I can hear, in the aerial jets, / Two voices conversing aloud. O...»