You were too lazy to get dressed,
Too lazy to get up for me.
And every following day for you
Would have been happy with my glee.
To come so late on a cold night
Embarrassed you especially.
And every following hour for you
Would have been young with this my glee.
I was the youth that passed you by —
You did this without ill intent,
Your actions were in every way
Incorrigible, innocent.
Вам одеваться было лень,
И было лень вставать из кресел.
— А каждый Ваш грядущий день
Моим весельем был бы весел.
Особенно смущало Вас
Идти так поздно в ночь и холод.
— А каждый Ваш грядущий час
Моим весельем был бы молод.
Вы это сделали без зла,
Невинно и непоправимо.
— Я Вашей юностью была,
Которая проходит мимо.
«I'm back at home. My dear land / Is pensive, spreading all around! / The twilight waves its snow-white hand / To greet me from beyond the mound. / / The grizzle of the gloomy day / Is floating by over my home, and / The evening fills me with dismay / Like insurmountable torment. ...»
«Now my grief won't be spilt by the ringing, / Happy laugh of the bygone last. / Lime-tree blossom is fading and dimming / And the nightingale dawns have passed. / / All was new to me then, and emotions / Filled my heart to the brim, so good. / Whereas now every word, kind and cautio...»
«Life is tricky with enchanting pathos / That is why it is so powerful, and / It composes its pernicious letters / With its outrageous, rugged hand. / / When I close my eyes I tacitly declare: / Touch your heart and you will plainly see, / Life is fraudulent, but here and there / ...»
«Both this street and this little house / Have been long so familiar to me. / Up the window the blue straws of wires / Are weighed down as they once used to be. / / There've been years of austere contingency / Years of vehement endeavours, too. / I remember my village, my infancy / ...»