And I need no girl.
By the cold of will,
By the trace of blue
I will alone go.
Widowed and an orphan
You were till I conquered.
By the willing trace
Of rushing spring water.
I'll wash away feats
From the glory, from pus.
In your glory I'll
Give drink to the horse.
Keep, little dove,
The sprouts from hail,
The girl from the serpent,
The hero from the girl.
А девы — не надо.
По вольному хладу,
По синему следу
Один я поеду.
Как был до победы:
Сиротский и вдовый.
По вольному следу
Воды родниковой.
От славы, от гною
Доспехи отмою.
Во славу Твою
Коня напою.
Храни, Голубица,
От града — посевы,
Девицу — от гада,
Героя — от девы.
«I can’t sleep, the light is out; / Chasing senseless dreams in gloom. / Clocks at once, inside my room, / Somewhere next to me, resound. / Parcae’s soft and mild chatter, / Sleeping twilight’s noisy flutter, / Life’s commotion — so insane... / Why am I to feel this pain? / ...»
«My friend, it’s time! The heart demands a break — / Day after day flies by, and every hour takes / A bit of being from us, while you and I / Make plans to live together — we may die. / There is no happiness, but there is peace of heart. / So many years I’ve dreamt about this part ...»
«Children run into their izba, / Hail their father, drip with sweat: / "Daddy, Daddy! Come — there is a / Deadman caught inside our net." / "Scary, scary fabrication", / Grumbled back the weary Pa, / "Oh these imps' imagination... / Deadman, really: ya-ha-ha! Hmm... the court may com...»
«A captive, alone in a dungeon I dwell, / Entombed in the stillness and murk of a cell. / Outside, in the courtyard, in wild, frenzied play, / My comrade, an eagle, has punced on his prey. Then, leaving it, at me he looks as if he / In thought and in purpose at one were with me. / He looks...»