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.
«A whisper, timid breathing. / A nightingale's trill, / The silver and the rocking / Of a drowsy rill. Night's light, night's shades, / Shades without cease, / A series of magic changes / In a dear face, In smoky clouds a rose's purple...»
«Pineapples in champagne! Pineapples in champagne! / Spectacularly sparkling — tasty and zesty! / I dive into Norway, I’m swimming in Spain! / With a mind-bolt of vision, I jump for my pencil! The whirr of airplanes! The buzz of racecars! / Wing-beats from iceboats! Wind-claps from train...»
«An honest man / should look others straight in the eye. / We don’t know why. / What if the honest man / has watery, bloodshot eyes? / What if the dishonest one / has terrific eyesight? / Somehow, those who served as safe-keepers / in every time and place / learned to judge truth...»
«With your impoverished settlements, / With your most meager natural gifts, / My native realm of sufferance, / You are the realm where Russia lives! You can’t be grasped or noticed by / The proud outsider’s fleeting gaze: / It misses hidden lights that shine / Within your humble nake...»