Rock and rock me, starry boat!
My head is weary of breaking waves!
For too long I’ve lost my moorings, —
My head is weary of thinking:
Of hymns — of laurels — of heroes — of hydras, —
My head is weary of pretensions!
Lay me out among grasses and pine-needles, —
My head is weary of wars...
Закачай меня, звёздный чёлн!
Голова устала от волн!
Слишком долго причалить тщусь, —
Голова устала от чувств:
Гимнов — лавров — героев — гидр, —
Голова устала от игр!
Положите меж трав и хвой, —
Голова устала от войн…
«There was a black cross on his chest / No engraving, no design, no patina: / A treasured heirloom charm / Bequeathed to this alien Italian. My Neapolitan boy what will be left / Of you here on the Russian fields? / Were you not happy enough / On that magnificent bay? I shot you dead ...»
«I sense no love or mirages, / Won't attach myself to mirth: / Bitter-fleeting, ever-rushing, / Are my joys on planet Earth. Like a child, finding pleasant / This fugacious, sweet game, / I'm contented with the present, / Cheery noons and murk the same.»
«You may live uncleanly and absurdly: / Bullies’ giggles, rattles in the dust, / Open is your street, and foul overtly: / Laughter of a prostitute, like rust. Dirty girlfriends, swarming, crazy psychos, / Anger, vice, deep poverty, and filth, / How can there appear in such a cycle / Dr...»
«I love Humanity and Nature, / But I don't like to merely stroll, / I know for sure, while filling pages: / No one will grasp my works at all. Content with small stuff, I’m beholding / What stingy life gave, as it could: / A leaning elm and barn — my gold things, / A small, wide hill...»