A golden cloud at evening came
To sleep upon the mountain’s breast.
And, merrily, at dawn she left the crest
To wander in the sky, aflame.
A trace of dew, of night’s caress,
He looms as in a dream, alone,
And softly weeps the mountain lone
Within the wilderness.
Ночевала тучка золотая
На груди утеса-великана,
Утром в путь она умчалась рано,
По лазури весело играя.
Но остался влажный след в морщине
Старого утеса. Одиноко
Он стоит, задумался глубоко,
И тихонько плачет он в пустыне.
«Russia gave freedom to many thousands. / A pretty affair! It will be remembered for long. / And I just took off my shirt / And mirror sky-scrapers of every hair, / Every chink / Of body-city / Hung out carpets and red bunting cloths. / All citizens, male and female, / Of Me, Me — a...»
«The sea-coast. / Sky. Stars. I’m quiet. I’m lying down. / My pillow’s neither a stone, nor feathers: / A sailor’s worn-throught boot. / Samorodov wore it in those red days / When he led the revolt / And moved ship of the white to Krasnovodsk, / To the red waters. / Getting da...»
«Wind is singing — / Who, of what? / Sword of eager / To be just swat. / Tenderly, like a favored flower / People cherish their deathday. / On the strings of grandeur, believe me, / The East has started to play. / Maybe the magician from the shining mountains / Will give us new pr...»
«I don’t need so much! / A cup of milk, / And a slice of bread, / And that sky above, / And clouds overhead.»