The quiet waters of the factories’ pools —
The fully filled wounds of the rivers, stunned,
Deadly, the dams interrupted your run,
Deathly — the rhythmic machines' push and pull.
Smell of the sulfur and lime here steels, —
Instead of the one of the groves and grass,
Steadily, it’s drenched in — the poisoned mass,
Clear and simple are sizes of wheels.
Look! Sluices shuddered and waters poured,
The waterfall splashes with foam and streams!
Passing the buildings and gardens, it streams!
All obligations are fully forgot!
Now the shores are peaceful again
Noise behind hills and a whistle ceased...
The former flow is gentle and plain,
The waves are peaceful,... poisoned, diseased.
Тихие воды прудов фабричных,
Полные раны запруженных рек,
Плотно плотины прервали ваш бег,
Слышится шум машин ритмичных.
Запах известки сквозь запах серы —
Вместо покинутых рощ и трав.
Мирно вбирается яд отрав,
Ясны и просты колес размеры.
Хлынули воды, трепещут шлюзы,
Пеной и струями блещет скат!
Мимо — постройки, флигель, сад!
Вольно расторгнуты все союзы!
Снова прибрежности миром полны:
Шум — за горой, и умолк свисток...
Кроток по-прежнему прежний ток;
Ядом отравлены — мирны волны.
«Here I praise the brutal flight / of those wings, they carried me into distances, / to Freedom's signifying blue dimension / domed by the sun with rings of light, / high, high, to that absolute height — / the snowy egret of song eternally.»
«I came across a little demon, / Thin and scrawny, like a gnat. / His body was that of a child, / His face was wild: sharp and old. It rained... He 'trembled, growing darker, / Disheveled fur grew wet, / And I said to myself, “Imagine that! / He too is cold. He too is alone.” People...»
«Darkness and rain and the wind / Over wastes of the watery plain. / Here life will be dead till the spring, / And the park will be empty till then. / Alone by the sea. In the gloom / At my easel... there’s a draft in the room. Last night you were here, in this room. / And now bored wi...»
«They mock you, my country; / They sneer at you for your simplicity, / For your unsightly squalor... Put a son with his big-city friends; / He, too, will have the calm effrontery / To be ashamed of his mother, / Of her timidity, her weariness, her wretchedness; To throw pitying smiles / ...»