I’m sad, because I love you way too much to bear,
And I’m aware: the baleful rumor mill won’t spare
Your blooming youth. And soon your destiny will reckon
Your recompense for all blithe days for all sweet seconds.
With bitter tears and rueful sorrow you’ll repay.
I am sad, because you’re being jovial and gay.
Мне грустно, потому что я тебя люблю,
И знаю: молодость цветущую твою
Не пощадит молвы коварное гоненье.
За каждый светлый день иль сладкое мгновенье
Слезами и тоской заплатишь ты судьбе.
Мне грустно... потому что весело тебе.
«I walked without dragging my feet / but felt heavy at heart and frightened; / and I pulled onto my left hand / the glove that belonged to the right. There seemed to be countless steps, / though I knew there were only three, / and an autumn voice from maples / whispered, "Die with me! I...»
«1. The pillow is already hot / From both of the sides. / The last of the candles has burnt / Out and the ravens’ cries / Are growing more and more plain. / I have not slept all last night / Thinking of sleep is late... / How is unbearably white, / On the white window the drape. /...»
«1. The pillow’s just as hot / when I turn it over. / And now a second candle / is guttering, and crows / are cawing louder than ever. / Not a wink... And it’s too late / even to think of sleep. / White, blindingly white — / a blind on a white window. / Good morni»
«That’s how I am. I could wish for you someone other, / Better. / I trade in happiness no longer... / Charlatans, pushers at the sales!.. / We stayed peacefully in Sochi, / Such nights, there, came to me, / And I kept hearing such bells! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ....»