17
Thus, O the Lord! And this my prayer
Accept for temple's confirmation.
I sing not pleasures of my love —
I sing the wound of my nation.
Not nasty person's rusty trunk —
Granite, with people's knees rubbed coarse.
Hero and tsar given to all,
To all — a singer — righteous — corpse.
Not bashful at the coffin boards,
Breaking upon Dnieper the ices,
Russia — on Easter it does swim
In pouring streams of thousand-voices.
Thus, heart, there will be cry and praise!
Let your cry — which thousand?
The mortal love is jealous so.
The other's at the chorus glad.
17
Так, Господи! И мой обол
Прими на утвержденье храма.
Не свой любовный произвол
Пою — своей отчизны рану.
Не скаредника ржавый ларь —
Гранит, коленами протёртый.
Всем отданы герой и царь,
Всем — праведник — певец — и мёртвый.
Днепром разламывая лёд,
Гробо́вым не смущаясь тёсом,
Русь — Пасхою к тебе плывёт,
Разливом тысячеголосым.
Так, сердце, плачь и славословь!
Пусть вопль твой — тысяча который? —
Ревнует смертная любовь.
Другая — радуется хору.
«He used to come here till he donned gold braid, / a good topcoat on, self-controlled, stoop-shouldered. / Arresting these cafe habitues – / he started snuffing out world culture somewhat later – / seemed sweet revenge (on Time, that is, not them) / for all the lack of cash, the sneer...»
«A far-off time arises in my memory, / The house in the Petersburg Quarters, / A humble daughter of the modest gentry, / Born in Kursk, you are here taking courses. You are cute, — you have many admirers. / This white night, it is only us two, / Sprawling out on your windowsill, tireless...»
«Onto my barely living chest, / The stone of the verdict fell. / But I was ready for this test, / Somehow, I’ll bear this hell. So much that I must do alone: / I’ll start by erasing the past, / I’ll turn my living soul to stone, / And learn to live, at last. Or else... The summer,...»
«I loved you, and that love to die refusing, / May still — who knows! Be smoldering in my breast. / Pray, be not pained — believe me, of my choosing / I’d never have you troubled nor yet distressed. I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly, / With shy yet fervent, tenderness aglow; / ...»