At him on windows tap the roses,
And wraps the smarmy chord its shroud...
He will not change his haughty poses,
A Byronist — oh, how he’s proud!
In velvet shimmer of the garden
With shepherdess does cupid play.
The adolescent’s features harden,
A Byronist — he can’t be gay!
Pah! From outside sound rowboat’s splashes,
On windowsill a bouquet falls...
And, trembling, book to floor he dashes,
O bard, forgive admirer’s crawls!
Ему в окно стучатся розы,
Струится вкрадчивый аккорд...
Он не изменит гордой позы,
Поклонник Байрона, — он горд.
В саду из бархата и блёсток
Шалит с пастушкою амур.
Не улыбается подросток,
Поклонник Байрона, — он хмур.
Чу! За окном плесканье вёсел,
На подоконнике букет...
Он задрожал, он книгу бросил.
Прости поклоннику, поэт!
«I must he ill, of course. I’ve been shivering / for three days now like a horse before the races. / Even the haughty man who lives on my landing / has said as much to me: / Bella, you’re shaking! / / Please control yourself, this strange disease of yours / is rocking the walls, it...»
«1 All morning I’ve had this Rain around me. / Rudely, I kept on saying: Leave me alone! / So it drew back, but soon there it was again / as sad and loving as a little daughter. Rain. On my back. Stuck there like a wing. / I reproached it: Here, you / shameless, useless thing! / Think...»
«Your house, all without feeling of misfortune, / Has met me and has smacked me on my cheek. / As if a fish out from water, / Behind the glass looked a tea service. / A dog has leaped out to me, / As small jackdaw, and yelling, / Defenseless burs, all with thorn's heap, / Were sitting t...»
«Avenues so wretched, / snowbanks, bitter frost. / Desperate little urchins / with trays of cigarettes. / Wandering dirty avenues, / enjoying evil games – / all of them are pickpockets, / all are jolly thieves. / That bunch takes Nikitskaya, / this – Tverskaya Square. / They s...»