To Alla
1
You will be innocent, gorgeous,
Refined — and to all alien.
A striving, aspiring mistress,
An enticing Amazon.
Your braids of hair, most likely,
To wear like a helmet you'll choose,
You will be the queen of the ballroom —
Of all the poems of our youth.
And your vicious blade of humor
Will pierce through many, queen,
And you will have at your feet
All of which I can but dream.
All will be obedient to you,
And all before you will be quiet.
Like me, you will indisputably
And better poems write.
But will you press tight and deadly
Those temples of yours — who knows —
Just like your young mother
Is pressing her temples now.
1
Ты будешь невинной, тонкой,
Прелестной — и всем чужой.
Пленительной амазонкой,
Стремительной госпожой.
И косы свои, пожалуй,
Ты будешь носить, как шлем,
Ты будешь царицей бала —
И всех молодых поэм.
И многих пронзит, царица,
Насмешливый твой клинок,
И всё, что мне — только снится,
Ты будешь иметь у ног.
Всё будет тебе покорно,
И все при тебе — тихи.
Ты будешь, как я — бесспорно —
И лучше писать стихи…
Но будешь ли ты — кто знает —
Смертельно виски сжимать,
Как их вот сейчас сжимает
Твоя молодая мать.
«At night I was conceived and born. / Oh my! I saw the light: / So mournful was my mother"s moan, / So black the hollow night. / / And when it cleared up anew / The day got filled with schemes, / With lots of tedious things to do. / ...»
«Although I have never loved, / And to break my oath I'm bound, — / Whenever I see you around / You stir up my soul and my blood! / / Your hands, they are far and yonder! / Into these boring days / You bring your charm and your grace / Even when we are asunder! / / In my abo...»
«I'm Hamlet. And my blood runs cold / When treachery is up to scheming; / My only love in the whole wide world. / Is in my heart, among the living. / / Ophelia, the cold of life / Has taken you away, my dear; / The prince of Demark , in a strife, / Hit with a blade, I am dying here...»
«He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: / but the friend of the bridegroom, / which standeth and heareth him, / rejoiceth greatly... / John, III, 29 I am a boy, I light a candle / And keep the incense burning on. / Beyond the river, in a huddle, / She"s laughing in a muffled tone....»