Don't weep! Above the yellow steppe
Still hangs the same late summer heat
And they, with children on their backs,
Come still, with tired and stumbling feet.
No tears! And as the crowd goes by
From Stalingrad to God knows where,
Don't try to catch their downcast eyes —
You cannot look for pity there!
Go on — don't strive to meet their gaze!
They need no sympathy, no shame!
All that they need from you is this —
You must go there, from whence they came!
Не плачь! — Всё тот же поздный зной
Висит над желтыми степями.
Все так же беженцы толпой
Бредут; и дети за плечами..
Не плачь! Покуда мимо нас
Они идут из Сталинграда,
Идут, не подымая глаз, —
От этих глаз не жди пощады.
Иди, сочувствием своим
У них не вымогая взгляда.
Иди туда, навстречу им —
Вот все, что от тебя им надо.
«At moments of so sad an air / When for a yellow shore I wish / A lady's voice bids, "May you fare / Well" as impulsive birch trees swish; Below the gray sky, first are snows / To lie on fields where flames have lain, / The sunless, faithless flyway goes / For many a snow driven crane......»
«The oak tree's tall. The water's running deep. / The restful shadows 'round begin to steal. / And there's such silence up on you to creep / As though the nature here knew no ordeal! And there's such silence up on you to creep / As though no roof heard any tell of thunder! / No wind along ...»
«When I hear notes of mournful music / I think of river's yellow shores, / Recall the sough of restless birch trees / And that one woman's farewell words. I also think about the silence / Of newborn snow beneath grey skies, / And then how desperate and faithless / Should be poor cranes' ...»
«Peaceful you are, native land of mine! / River, songbirds, willow trees... / My mother’s tomb is not far away, / Left here since my childhood years. — Where is the graveyard? Can someone help? / I could not find it myself. — / People then quietly answered me: / — It's on that s...»