Now dry thy eyes, and shed no tears.
In heaven's straw-pale meadows veers
Aquarius, and earthward peers,
His emptied vessel overturning.
No storming snows, no clouds that creep
Across the sheer pure emerald steep,
Whence, thinly-drawn, a ray darts deep
As a keen lance with edges burning.
Отри глаза и слез не лей:
С небесных, палевых полей
Уж глянул бледный Водолей,
Пустую урну проливая.
Ни снежных вьюг, ни тусклых туч.
С прозрачно-изумрудных круч
Протянут тонкий, яркий луч,
Как шпага остро-огневая.
«Against the pale-blue enamel / that April makes conceivable, / the branches of birch trees will stand / and gradually ripen to evening. Their pattern is sharp and complete, / that stiffened gauze is fine, / like a drawing that somebody’s neatly / traced out on a plate of china. Some ...»
«No moon but a clock-face. How’s it a sin / that while it dazzles my eyes I examine / the muted stars’ milky light? Poet Batyushkov, son to a parson, / how he’d spout on. “What’s the time?” they’d ask him. / “Eternity”, he replied.»
«Oh, heart’s remembrance! You are, yet, / Mush stronger than sad one of reasons; / And, often in a distant land, / Bewitch me with your even sweetness. / I hear the sound of your word, / I see the blue of eyes, so dear, / I see your golden locks, right here, / Of the hair so negligent...»
«My friend! I have seen the sea's menace / And the vengeful sky's cursed punishment: / The despicable deeds of mortal enemies, / Blare of war, catastrophic conflagrations. / I have seen the multitudes of rich men / Fleeing in nothing but tattered rags, / I've seen the weathered faces of m...»