O, pitiful exertions of usurpers!
Like sleep, like snow, like death, to all — a shrine.
A ban on Kremlin! There's no ban on wings, and
Therefore — there is no ban upon Kremlin.
...О, самозванцев жалкие усилья!
Как сон, как снег, как смерть — святыни — всем.
Запрет на Кремль? Запрета нет на крылья!
И потому — запрета нет на Кремль!
«You sought no friends! Alone, you lived your life, / Without those who shared your point of view. / Without remorse, you calmly thrust your knife / Into each heart that shared its love with you. “My senseless friend, seek happiness and mirth!...” / ...»
«They will bury us deep, once we’re dead, / And the grass will then cover the mound, / And we’ll hear: somewhere high, overhead, / A passing shower will water the ground. From then on, we’ll seek nothing at all, / Waking up from a dream, we will reason: / If it’s quiet outside – ...»
«I recall, we would date at sundown, / You would cut the lagoon with the ore. / I admired your white dressing gown / Not revering fine dreams any more. / / Our dates would be awkwardly silent. / Up ahead on the sandy shore / Evening candles would light up, and someone / Thought of...»
«I while away my reckless life, / My life, extremely dull and sombre, / Now I rejoice, restrained and sober, / Now I shed tears, sing and strive. / / But if one day I am to die? / What if behind me stands the visage / That covers mirror, like an image, / With his enormous hand? Oh...»