4.
War, war! — burn incense before the icons!
And the clatter of spurs.
But the Tsar's proclamations do not concern me,
Neither do the poeople's quarrels.
I seem on a fraiyed tightrope
I — a tiny dancer.
I — the shadow of someone's shadow.
I — a sleepwalker
Between two dark moons.
4
Война, война! — Кажденья у киотов
И стрёкот шпор.
Но нету дела мне до царских счётов,
Народных ссор.
На, кажется, — надтреснутом — канате
Я — маленький плясун.
Я тень от чьей-то тени. Я лунатик
Двух тёмных лун.
«On the dark-blue sky / The dawn burst red. / In golden glow, spry / Sun rose from its bed. When sun-light came back, / By the sky reflected, / It met on its track, / New rays just projected. And when bright-gold, blended rays / Spilled, suddenly lighting earth’s face, / The blue ...»
«on 26 April 1912 “What do you need?” I pled / With the blizzard, “Please depart. / You summon sadness and dread / And worries that sicken my heart; Why do you howl at my window? / Let me be now, I’m praying; / Move away, or stay and blow, / But don’t listen — I’m crying. ...»
«Somebody sings a happy song / Somewhere far, far away; I‘d go / There, or I’d happily sing along / Alas, my broken heart says no. My soul strives to reach this song / And seeks like notes in my heart / Alas, I wasted my strength long / Ago, before this song did start. Quite early, ...»
«Old hut, barely one room, / Often, the blizzards cry / At your door; gloom / And worry come-by and When a bad year befalls, / Hunger comes along; / Laments within your walls / Rob the notes from a song. Bitterness, everyone sings / About: neediness, duress, / The evil and sad thing...»