A white and lonely sail is flickering
Across the blue fog of the sea
What does he seek in far-off distance?
What did he leave in home country?
The waves are playing — wind is whistling,
The mast of ship does bend and moan..
Alas — happiness he's not seeking
Nor does from happiness he run.
Beneath him water's light as azure,
Above him sun's rays, gold and warm..
But he, rebellious, storm is seeking,
As if there's calm inside the storm!
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!
«Sweetness and tenderness — like sisters alike are your marks — / The wasp and the bee suckle honey then flutter as one — / Life ends, beach sand chills overnight, and the heaven gets dark, / And carried away on black litter is yesterday's sun. Ah, tender rosebush, delicate emanation! / ...»
«A ghostlike scene is glimmering / Weak choirs of shades remain / With silk has draped Melpomene / Her temple's windowpanes / Frost crunches in the yard / Black chariots stand in row / People and objects are disheveled / Street crackles with hot snow. Bit by bit the servants pick apart...»
«To me the meaning of Venetian life is clear / Bleary though it be and fruitless; / Here she stares with smile instilling fear / Through the dirty bluish window glass. Thinning air, blue veins through skin of arm, / A green brocade and the whitening snow / From the coat they take a corpse,...»
«It is a pity that the winter falls / Mosquitoes fly no more / But you, my dear, allowed me to recall / Light-headed straw. Dragonflies weave paths across the blue / And like a swallow, circles mode — / Is that there a basket over you / Or pompous ode? I wish not to advise, comment, d...»