The lonely sail is showing white
Among the haze of the blue sea!..
What does it search in foreign part?
What left it in the native land?..
The waves are playing, wind is whistling,
And bending mast is creaking loud,
Alas, — it does not hunt for pleasure
And nor from pleasure does it run!
Below — a bright stream of azure,
Above — a golden beam of sun,
But it, rebellious, asks for tempests
As if the tempests give a rest!
Белеет парус одинокой
В тумане моря голубом!..
Что ищет он в стране далекой?
Что кинул он в краю родном?..
Играют волны — ветер свищет,
И мачта гнется и скрыпит...
Увы! он счастия не ищет,
И не от счастия бежит!
Под ним струя светлей лазури,
Над ним луч солнца золотой...
А он, мятежный, просит бури,
Как будто в бурях есть покой!
«I can’t sleep, the light is out; / Chasing senseless dreams in gloom. / Clocks at once, inside my room, / Somewhere next to me, resound. / Parcae’s soft and mild chatter, / Sleeping twilight’s noisy flutter, / Life’s commotion — so insane... / Why am I to feel this pain? / ...»
«My friend, it’s time! The heart demands a break — / Day after day flies by, and every hour takes / A bit of being from us, while you and I / Make plans to live together — we may die. / There is no happiness, but there is peace of heart. / So many years I’ve dreamt about this part ...»
«Children run into their izba, / Hail their father, drip with sweat: / "Daddy, Daddy! Come — there is a / Deadman caught inside our net." / "Scary, scary fabrication", / Grumbled back the weary Pa, / "Oh these imps' imagination... / Deadman, really: ya-ha-ha! Hmm... the court may com...»
«A captive, alone in a dungeon I dwell, / Entombed in the stillness and murk of a cell. / Outside, in the courtyard, in wild, frenzied play, / My comrade, an eagle, has punced on his prey. Then, leaving it, at me he looks as if he / In thought and in purpose at one were with me. / He looks...»