A silver sail, the ocean loner,
Is lurking in the azure mist.
What has she lost in foreign corners?
What in her homeland did she miss?
Her mast is clattering and bending
Midst whistling wind and raging wave.
Alas, she seeks no happy ending,
Nor runs from happiness away.
Beneath – the crystal torrent tempteth,
Above – the golden rays caress,
Yet she, rebellious, longs for tempests
As though a tempest granted 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!
«Swimming in the blue dust, / The moon butts a cloud with its horn. / This night, no one will guess / Why the herons screamed. / This night, she ran through the reeds / To the green backwater. / Her white hand swept her tousled hair / Over her tunic. / She ran up, glanced at the quick...»
«Your pensive sigh is calling me / To warm light, to my native threshold / / Where grandmother and grandfather sit on the porch / Awaiting their spirited sunflower-aged grandson. / / Their grandson is slim and white as a birch, / With honey hair and velvet hands. / / Except, o my...»
«Here it is, silly happiness / With white windows that look into the garden. / The sunset quietly swims / In the pond like a red swan. / / Hello, golden quiet / With your shadow of a birch in the water. / A flock of crows on the roof / Holds vespers for a star. / / Somewhere pas...»
«Country, o my country! / Autumnal rainy tin. / The shivering streetlight reflects / Its lipless head in a black puddle. / / No, it’s best not to look, / Or else I’ll see something worse. / I’ll just keep squinting my eyes / At all this rusted haze. / / It’s warmer this ...»