Today or tomorrow the snow will melt.
You lie alone beneath an enormous fur.
Shall I pity you? Your lips
have gone dry for ever.
Your drinking is difficult, your step heavy.
Every passer-by hurries away from you.
Was it with fingers like yours that Rogozhin
clutched the garden knife?
And the eyes, the eyes in your face!
Two circles of charcoal, year-old circles!
Surely when you were still young your girl
lured you into a joyless house.
Far away — in the night — over asphalt — a cane.
Doors — swing open into — night — under beating wind.
Come in! Appear! Undesired guest! Into
my chamber which is — most bright!
Не сегодня-завтра растает снег.
Ты лежишь один под огромной шубой.
Пожалеть тебя, у тебя навек
Пересохли губы.
Тяжело ступаешь и трудно пьёшь,
И торопится от тебя прохожий.
Не в таких ли пальцах садовый нож
Зажимал Рогожин?
А глаза, глаза на лице твоём —
Два обугленных прошлолетних круга!
Видно, отроком в невесёлый дом
Завела подруга.
Далеко — в ночи — по асфальту — трость,
Двери настежь — в ночь — под ударом ветра…
Заходи — гряди! — нежеланный гость
В мой покой пресветлый.
«The Moon is like the round shield / Of a hero slain decades ago. / My heart is sick with a vague guilt / And of presentiments aglow. Through a smocky medow, and field, / And a deep ocean, a cruel foe, / With th' tilted forwars spear and shield, / Steals slowly up my monster woe. Excite...»
«Yes, I know, we're not a pair, / In some other land I was born, / What I like is not the guitar / But the wild blows of a horn. Not to gowns and tails I deliver / My best poems in luxurious halls, / I would rather read them to a river, / To the clouds and waterfalls. And I love, like i...»
«Be blessed the finest wine that 's loving us, / And the good bread that goes for us to a roaster, / And the hot woman that will first harass / But finally allow us to test her. Yet, what we'll do with Phoebus' chariot / That conveys Sun, harnessed with its six horses, / With dawn cool and...»
«No word, keep secret and withhold / Your feelings and your dreams untold — / But in your deepest soul of all / Permit their rising and their fall / Like stars that shine at night, unheard; / Just contemplate them — and no word. / How can the soul itself impart? / How can anot...»