Wakened by the shadows’ probing
Snowy windows with their arc —
Isaac’s swarthy gold dome’s robing
Glimmers, beautiful and dark.
Doleful, snowy morning settles,
Isaac’s cross wears misty shroud.
At the window pigeons nestle,
Snug against the glass they crowd.
All is joy to me and novel:
Chandelier and coffee’s spice,
Rug on floor of cosy hovel,
Papers’ soggy frosted ice.
Просыпаюсь в полумраке.
В занесенное окно
Смуглым золотом Исакий
Смотрит дивно и темно.
Утро сумрачное снежно,
Крест ушел в густую мглу.
За окном уютно, нежно
Жмутся голуби к стеклу.
Все мне радостно и ново:
Запах кофе, люстры свет,
Мех ковра, уют алькова
И сырой мороз газет.
«Here summer is over / As if it never happened. / Under the sun it's warmer, / Only it's not sufficient. All that could be realized, / Like a five-fingered leaf, in / My hands was brought straight, / Only it's not sufficient. Neither evil nor good / Was lost here in vain. / It all...»
«Here're the girls — they wish to love, / Here're the boys — they wish to wander, / All changes in that april just unite, / Consoloidate the people with each other. O, the new month, the new such Lord, / You seek in such a way new favour, / You may be generous in your words, / Letti...»
«Outside, the blizzard sets in deep / And all its polish coats. / The paper seller is asleep, / Her kiosk, drifting, floats. Not once we’ve happened to observe / In our lives’ lengthy course, / The snowfall comes with shy reserve / To trick our eyes perforce. Concealing unrepentantl...»
«Snow is falling, falling down. / The geraniums are trying / To befriend the sparkles flying / Past the window’s woven bound. Snow is falling, all’s in action, / Smitten, taking off the ground: / The black stairs, the intersection, — / All is being lost and found. Snow is falling...»