A year will come — of Russia’s blackest dread;
then will the crown fall from the royal head,
the throne of tsars will perish in the mud,
the food of many will be death and blood;
both wife and babe will vainly seek the law:
it will not shield the victims any more;
the putrid, rotting plague will mow and cut
and boldly walk the road from hut to hut;
in people’s sight its pallid face will float,
and hunger’s hand will clutch them by the throat;
a scarlet sea will send its bloody surge;
a mighty man will suddenly emerge:
you’ll recognize the man, you’ll feel
that he has come to use a knife of steel;
oh, dreadful day! Your call, your groan, your prayer
will only make him laugh at your despair;
and everything in his forbidding sight —
his brow, his cloak — will fill the land with fright.
Настанет год, России черный год,
Когда царей корона упадет;
Забудет чернь к ним прежнюю любовь,
И пища многих будет смерть и кровь;
Когда детей, когда невинных жен
Низвергнутый не защитит закон;
Когда чума от смрадных, мертвых тел
Начнет бродить среди печальных сел,
Чтобы платком из хижин вызывать,
И станет глад сей бедный край терзать;
И зарево окрасит волны рек:
В тот день явится мощный человек,
И ты его узнаешь — и поймешь,
Зачем в руке его булатный нож:
И горе для тебя! — твой плач, твой стон
Ему тогда покажется смешон;
И будет всё ужасно, мрачно в нем,
Как плащ его с возвышенным челом.
«White sail out in the bay / billowing in the wind. / Why sail so far away? / Why leave so much behind? Winds must play on the seas / and masts creak in the wind. / Fortune is not what he seeks, / nor what he's left behind. A golden light still pours / down onto deep blue seas; / th...»
«1 Into the treasure chest / Of the midnight depths / I let down / A steady hand. Amid seaweed / There's no sight of him! / My treasure-chest / Is not in the sea! Into the singing height / Clouds beyond — / With double thunder / I get brave — and now A lark has dropped / ...»
«2 Alive and well! / Louder than thunder — / Like with an axe — / Joy! No, with an axe / Not enough: with a bull / Under the butt / Of happiness! Stunned. / Afraid. / What in exchange — / Will they tear away? And from the knees / All the way to the roots / Of standing ...»
«3 Not hunching under sorrow, / Under the stone — winged — as / An eagle — having stayed whole, The double sadness / Of earthly mothers / And heavenly mistresses Having raised on the shoulder — / Hot Maltese steel / Was left to me! But the wrathful sky / To the eagles —...»