to Valentina Serova
Don't be angry if I write
Only just from time to time,
Writing now, and then again,
Waiting till another time.
Letters come in many forms:
Some are sick and some are sad,
Brilliant just occasionally,
Far more often very bad.
Letters leave a lot unsaid,
Often are not understood,
Seem to mean more than they do,
Fail to mention what they should.
If I live, you will not need
Letters, you will have the man.
If I die, to read my words
May be more than sorrow can.
When you travel, you will not
Heavy trolleys need to trundle.
They will fit into your bag,
Folded in a slender bundle.
When you're married, comes a time,
When you need a little cry —
You can quickly reach them down
And as swiftly put them by.
When you've locked the bedroom door,
Kept them from his jealous gaze,
Spare a kind and grateful thought
For your lover's lazy ways.
Say "It's better that he wrote
Only just from time to time,
Writing now, and then again,
Waiting till another time."
Не сердитесь — к лучшему,
Что, себя не мучая,
Вам пишу от случая
До другого случая.
Письма пишут разные:
Слезные, болезные,
Иногда прекрасные,
Чаще — бесполезные.
В письмах все не скажется
И не все услышится,
В письмах все нам кажется,
Что не так напишется.
Коль вернусь — так суженых
Некогда отчитывать,
А убьют — так хуже нет
Письма перечитывать.
Чтобы вам не бедствовать,
Не возить их тачкою,
Будут путешествовать
С вами тонкой пачкою.
А замужней станете,
Обо мне заплачете —
Их легко достанете
И легко припрячете.
От него, ревнивого,
Затворившись в комнате,
Вы меня, ленивого,
Добрым словом вспомните.
Скажете, что к лучшему,
Память вам не мучая,
Он писал от случая
До другого случая.
«The signs of the Zodiac are fading / Above the wide expanse of fields. / And the animal, the Dog, sleeps, / And the bird, the Sparrow, slumbers. / Mermaids soar, broad in the beam, / Soar straight up into the heavens, / With their arms as stout as boughs / And their breasts as round as...»
«Open, Open, / The gates of the tsar! / Darkness dimmed and poured out far. / With clean heat / Burns the altar — / Resurrect, Christ, / Yesterday's tsar! Without glory fell / Two-headed eagle. / Tsar — you were wrong. He'll remember inheritance / Many more times — ...»
«Let us now praise freedom's twilight, / The glorious twilit year! / Into the midnight boiling waters / A massive forest of snares is lowered. / You rise above obscure years, — / O sun, O judge, my people. Let us praise the fateful burden / The people's leader takes up tearfully. — /...»
«Brethren, let’s praise the dusk of freedom / With its great year of twilit gloom, / Its hefty grove of dangling snares / Cast into the night’s jet-black waters! / From under a deaf age’s yoke / You rise, O sun! O judge! O folk! And let us praise the fatal burden / Taken up in tear...»