My first recall — in vague light
A fairy meadow gleams and glows.
A turkey-cock reigned there in pride
And I adored him most.
He was clothed in malice, in anger bold,
His beak blazed like scarlet flame.
But I was only four years old,
Scorned, contempted, ashamed.
No chocolate, no candies sweet,
Not even pine-apple syrup
Could deliver a brief relief
From my disgrace in front of turkey-cock.
Believe! Disaster struck again.
Pain and torment of a little child:
Angry, adored, in my heart you reigned
Rejected my love in pride.
Everything passes away in our changing life.
Love will go and pain shock...
I'll remember you with forgiving smile
As I remember that turkey-cock.
На утре памяти неверной,
Я вспоминаю пестрый луг,
Где царствовал высокомерный,
Мной обожаемый индюк.
Была в нем злоба и свобода,
Был клюв его как пламя ал,
И за мои четыре года
Меня он остро презирал.
Ни шоколад, ни карамели,
Ни ананасная вода
Меня утешить не умели
В сознаньи моего стыда.
И вновь пришла беда большая,
И стыд, и горе детских лет:
Ты, обожаемая, злая,
Мне гордо отвечаешь: «Нет!»
Но всё проходит в жизни зыбкой —
Пройдет любовь, пройдет тоска,
И вспомню я тебя с улыбкой,
Как вспоминаю индюка!
«To Vl. Motyl As a child, I was convinced / that from all conditions / Potion of the Danish Prince / is the most efficient. / And that faith is burning since / brighter every year... / Potion of the Danish Prince / Savor, cavalier! Potion of this Prince or King / is as sweet as cand...»
«They're yet to be fitted, your veil and your gown, / And chanters to bless us for life, / But hurries time — dare-driver renowned! — / And horses are eager to fly. If only the ding-bells were angels safeguarding, / The sleigh were by tracks to abide! / Two buddies forever, devotion an...»
«Every morning, summer morning, every summer, / If your day begins before the sunrise ends / You will notice, you will witness as a merry little drummer / Takes his maple drumsticks in his little hands. / You will notice, you will witness as a merry little drummer / Takes his maple drumstic...»
«Four winters, pal, we stood the grounds, / And now spring is back on track. / With war, we've settled all accounts, / Let's go home, pick up your sack. The war was slashing us and bending, / And now we have paid it back. / For four years mothers have been waiting, / Let's go home, pick ...»