Above the church there are blue clouds,
A crows' cry...
And pass — the color of ash and sand —
Revolutionary troops... oh my
Blue-blooded, my kingly angst!
They don't have a face, don't have a name —
Nobody sings!
You got lost, the Kremlin ringing
In this banner forest full of wind.
Lie, Moscow, onto eternal sleep, and pray!
Над церко́вкой — голубые облака,
Крик вороний…
И проходят — цвета пепла и песка —
Революционные войска.
Ох ты барская, ты царская моя тоска!
Нету лиц у них и нет имён, —
Песен нету!
Заблудился ты, кремлёвский звон,
В этом ветреном лесу знамён.
Помолись, Москва, ложись, Москва, на вечный сон!
«There are three periods of memory. / The first of them is like a yesterday, / The soul basks in the blessings of their vault, / The body takes its glory in their shade. / Laughter has not yet passed away, tears gush, / The blot is not yet bleached out of the desk, / The kiss, like a hear...»
«Today, as I see, you're especially wistful, my love. / Your hands are especially slim / while embracing your knees. / O, listen! In far away, far away lands, / by lake Chad / there wanders a gorgeous giraffe. His skin in embroidered with a fairy miraculous weave. / Who'd dare to come an...»
«Lather of lassitude round the lips again. / Ploughing the waves there furiously swims the Bull. / Snorting, not fond of rowing, a lady's man. / Hard is the cargo, he's labouring to the full. Time and again there jumps up a dolphin's wheel / Or a sea urchin gives them a thorny peck. / Soft...»
«The girl was singing in a church choir, / About the weary abroad, far away, / About the ships in the sea, so dire, / And those who'd forgotten their happy day. So sweet was her voice flying up into highness / With shimmering beam on her shoulder of white, / And every one listened watc...»