Lawful wife
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that's served is nests of the swallows.
Since the birth of time, the legal spouse
Is respected by her mandarin-husband.
Concubine
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served — duck: fat and heavy;
Should a mandarin be deprived of children —
Concubine is needed for a mandarin.
Maid
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served — preserves and marmalade.
Why the two of you are in his house?
Every night a new woman he desires.
Mandarin
There is no more wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that's served is hot red pepper.
Silence! O you: bunch of silly blabbers,
Dare you laughing at the poor old mandarin.
Законная жена
Есть еще вино в глубокой чашке,
И на блюде ласточкины гнезда.
От начала мира уважает
Мандарин законную супругу.
Наложница
Есть еще вино в глубокой чашке,
И на блюде гусь большой и жирный.
Если нет детей у мандарина,
Мандарин наложницу заводит.
Служанка
Есть еще вино в глубокой чашке,
И на блюде разное варенье.
Для чего вы обе мандарину,
Каждый вечер новую он хочет.
Мандарин
Больше нет вина в глубокой чашке,
И на блюде только красный перец.
Замолчите, глупые болтушки,
И не смейтесь над несчастным старцем.
«Let's meet the stranger with a lamp, / With a quiet, loyal flame. / Only no hidden whisper, / No whisper about him! We do not need the bright light now, / Dim the lamp till it's barely lit. / Only no sight of the better, / No sight of it! May in a careless worry / Year like a day onl...»
«I today all night long could not sleep / From the magickal month-of-May noise! / Quietly pulled on the pantyhose / And to the window slipped. I'm a rebel with whirlwind in the blood, / Only passion and cold matter to me. / I have read Bourge too: One can't be / Happy when one is unloved...»
«Here's the world, where glass-cases are shining, / Here's Tverskaya — we miss it eternally. / Whom does Asya need more than Marina? / Whom does dear Asya need more than me? In a lively row walking, drinking / Sunset, voices, lights, — all that's there, / And at times lowering our ey...»
«My friend, you will ask, who ordains / that the speech of a blessed fool should burn? Let's scatter our words / As the garden scatters amber zest, / Absentmindedly and generously / Bit by bit by bit. Let's not discuss / Why the leaves are patterned / So formally / With ruby and lemon...»