Chénier went up to meet the guillotine,
And I'm alive. That is a dreadful sin.
There are times that steel over everyone.
He is no bard who sings as bullets spin.
He is no father, trembling at the gate,
Whose arms rip battle-armor off his son.
There are times when the sun is deadly sin.
It is no human who today lives on.
Андрей Шенье взошёл на эшафот,
А я живу — и это страшный грех.
Есть времена — железные — для всех.
И не певец, кто в порохе — поёт.
И не отец, кто с сына у ворот
Дрожа срывает воинский доспех.
Есть времена, где солнце — смертный грех.
Не человек — кто в наши дни живёт.
«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...»