Why does the ancient grave in captivation,
hold all those dreams of what may once have been?
Why does the willow bend its frowning green
To cast its shadow as in veneration,
So mournful and so tender and so bright,
As if all things that now are ended might
Already know the joy of resurrection
And in redemption’s bosom, dark perfection
In tangle of celestial blooms’ delight?
Зачем пленяет старая могила
Блаженными мечтами о былом?
Зачем зеленым клонится челом
Та ива, что могилу осенила,
Так горестно, так нежно и светло,
Как будто все, что было и прошло,
Уже познало радость воскресенья
И в лоне всепрощения, забвенья
Небесными цветами поросло?
«I feel my life hang by a hair / as I wait at night for the Muse; / youth, freedom, fame melt into air / as my guest appears with her flute. She enters, tosses back her shawl; / her half-closed eyes let nothing pass. / "So it was you who sang of Hell / to Dante?" "Yes," she says, "it wa...»
«Nothing, nothing will be returned; / love, forgiveness — unearned, unlearned; / though we can never learn to forget. Sweet is the sleep of an alien land. / We sense spring, hear the sea’s even sound / in this world of eternal torment.»
«for Osip Mandelstam All the town’s gripped in an icy fist. / Trees and walls and snow are set in glass. / I pick my timid way across the crystal. / Unsteadily the painted sledges pass. / Flocks of crows above St Peter’s, wheeling. / The dome amongst the poplars, green and pale in / ...»
«Nothing’s been taken away! / We’re apart — I’m delighted by this! / Across the hundreds of miles / that divide us, I send you my kiss. Our gifts, I know, are unequal. / For the first time my voice is still. / What, my young Derzhavin, do / you make of my doggrel? For your terri...»