Today, around eight, dashing through
Big Lubanka straight ahead,
Like bullet, like snowball,
Somewhere rushed the sled.
Already the laughter rang...
I froze as I peered:
Red down of the hair
And somebody tall was near!
We were with another, and opened
Another sled route, I thought,
With things that were dear to me —
More strongly, than I did want.
"O, je n'en puis plus, j'etouffe!" —
You screamed in full voice of yours,
And boldly went tucking in
The hollow of fur on her.
World is happy, and evening is bold!
From the muff purchases fly...
Thus you rushed in a snowstorm,
Coat to coat, eye to eye.
And cruelest mutiny happened,
And white snow did pour.
I followed you with my eyes
For two seconds — and no more.
And caressed the longish nap
Upon his coat — without wrath.
O Snow Queen! Your little Kai
Is frozen to death.
Сегодня, часу в восьмом,
Стремглав по Большой Лубянке,
Как пуля, как снежный ком,
Куда-то промчались санки.
Уже прозвеневший смех…
Я так и застыла взглядом:
Волос рыжеватый мех,
И кто-то высокий — рядом!
Вы были уже с другой,
С ней путь открывали санный,
С желанной и дорогой, —
Сильнее, чем я — желанной.
— Oh, je n'en puis plus, j'étouffe!1 —
Вы крикнули во весь голос,
Размашисто запахнув
На ней меховую полость.
Мир — весел и вечер лих!
Из муфты летят покупки…
Так мчались Вы в снежный вихрь,
Взор к взору и шубка к шубке.
И был жесточайший бунт,
И снег осыпался бело.
Я около двух секунд —
Не более — вслед глядела.
И гладила длинный ворс
На шубке своей — без гнева.
Ваш маленький Кай замёрз,
О, Снежная Королева.
____
1. О, я больше не могу, я задыхаюсь! (фр.)
«The heavens sow a light rain / On the blooming lilac shrub. / While, outside, the white Whit Monday / Beats its wings, ascending up. And today’s — a closing date, / My dear friend returns from sea. / Shores and towers, as of late, / In my dreams, appear to me. Climbing up the final...»
«I know that you are my reward / For years of struggle, sweat and pain, / For not accepting any sort / Of earthly pleasures under strain, / For never uttering the words / To my beloved: "You are loved", / For me forgiving all to all, — / You’ll be my Angel from above. »
«These meeting didn’t leave / Any deep understanding of life, / No secrets and no grief — / Just a sense of struggle and strife. Since morning, my arms trembled / With restless uncertainty, — / I had guessed the minute you’d enter / This evening to visit me. I wrung the cloth in...»
«Do not send a loving dove my way, / Restless letters do not write to me, / With the March wind, don’t disturb my peace. / I have entered a green heaven yesterday, / Where the body and the soul find serenity / Underneath the tent of the poplar trees. And from here, I see a town shimmerin...»