When the moonlight dispassionately illuminates
The world that is asleep at night,quite all this world,
Sometimes it seems this light just penetrates
In the departed world like under a burial vault.
By the moonlight it seems this world is afterlife,
And that before this life we lived somewhere,
That we — is not we but an echo of other life
Like prisoners in a prison without an exit there.
We scurry about this mysterious prison as shadows,
The future is alien to us, the past we just forgot,
And being wrapped in dreams so steeped in leaden drowse,
We do not live but only the right to live just hold...
Когда свет месяца бесстрастно озаряет
Заснувший ночью мир и всё, что в нём живет,
Порою кажется, что свет тот проникает
К нам, в отошедший мир, как под могильный свод.
И мнится при луне, что мир наш — мир загробный,
Что где-то, до того, когда-то жили мы,
Что мы — не мы, послед других существ, подобный
Жильцам безвыходной, таинственной тюрьмы.
И мы снуём по ней какими-то тенями,
Чужды грядущему и прошлое забыв,
В дремоте тягостной, охваченные снами,
Не жизнь, но право жить как будто сохранив...
«Until death itself... Who would have thought? / (A sleigh at the doorstep, wind, snow) / I know, I know. But how could one think / That this is until death? Completely? Forever? Be silent, be silent, we don't need hope / (Evening, wind, snow, houses...)...»
«Your sad star / Was briefly my joy: / It sparkled and fell / To the earth, a dark stone. Your sad soul / Did not dare to love a smile, / And rushing from me, / It put on a black shroud. But I joined my fate / To yours forever, in one hope: / Wherever you are, I am with you, / And...»
«No, I will not be reconciled. / My curses are the truth. / I'll not forgive, I will not fall / Into embrace of iron. Like all who live I'll die, I'll kill, / Like all, destroy myself. / But I will never stain my soul / With justifying war. In my last hour, in murk and fire, / Let my ...»
«A strange alarm weighs on my heart, / Delirium of premonitions. / I look ahead and the road is dark / And perhaps there is no road. But I cannot touch with any words / What is living in me — and in silence. / I do not dare to feel it; / It's like a dream. A dream within a dream. O, m...»