One white and lonely sail out there,
amidst fog and the ocean’s blue.
What does it seek in distant lands?
What’s amiss in the land it knew?
Waves leap up into whistling wind;
the tall mast bends; the rigging creaks.
This isn’t a flight from trouble —
contentment is not what he seeks.
Splashing spray is brighter than sky,
when sunshine pours from above.
But he, rebellious, seeks the storm,
as if in the storm there were love.
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!
«2 A knight without reproach, / A ghost, a gentle one, / Who is it that called you / Into my life so young? In fog greyish-blue / Dressed in a chausible / Of snow, stand you. Around the city / By the wind I'm chased, / For the third evening / A foe I sensed. The blue-eyed / Sing...»
«3 You walk out to the Falling Sun, / Evening light in your face, / You walk out to the Falling Sun, / And the snowstorm blots out the trace. Past the windows — passionless — / You will go in the quiet snow, / My beautiful believer in God, / Quiet to the light of my soul. I do not ...»
«4 To beast — abode, / To wanderer — road / To dead one — quay / To each — their own way. To a woman — to fool, / To the king — to rule, / To me — to extol / Your name.»
«5 Cupolas are burning here in Moscow! / Bells are ringing here in Moscow! / And coffins here stand in row — / In them queens do sleep, and the kings. And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn / Breathing's lighter — than in all the world! / And you do not know, in Kremlin at dawn / ...»