I view the promised land before me, —
Gleaming of waters, tents of trees.
But anger of the Lord forbore me
To touch the dower I long to seize.
I rose from heat and sandy places,
I tasted death in living hours:
My strength so wanes, that it effaces
Within my soul all placid powers.
And if my mournful-tuned ovation
Is chanted to that glad domain,
I shape a hymn of salutation,
Not for my own, but others' gain.
Я вижу край обетованный,
Сверканье вод, шатры дерев.
Но преступить предлог желанный
Мне запретил Господний гнев.
Устал я от песков и зноя,
Еще при жизни смерть вкусил.
Так изнемог, что для покоя
В моей душе нет больше сил.
И если радостному краю
Поет привет мой грустный стих,
Я гимн приветственный слагаю
Не для себя, а для других.
«We saw death at rather close range, / and perhaps we could have died ourselves, / we walked wherever it was possible to walk, / and looked at everything that one could look at. / We climbed into trenches / drenched with the smell of creosote / and “sake” spilt on the sand, / where ...»
«To A. Surkov Remember, Alyosha, the roads of Smolensk, / The cruel, the endlessly falling rain, / The tired women bringing us earthenware vessels, / And hugging them, like children, from the rain, How they wiped their eyes, stealthily, / And whispered on parting: “May God protect you! / ...»
«On an accordion which had seen plenty, / Moving his fingers over husky keys, / In an unfamiliar car the blind man played / The song “Along the Highway.”1 Blinded near Molodechno, / Back in that other, different war, / Straight from the clinic, he had set out, crippled, / His eyes sh...»
«Wait for me, and I’ll come back, / But wait with all your might, / Wait when dreariness descends / With the yellow rains, / Wait when snowdrifts sweep the ground, / Wait during the heat, / Wait when others are given up / And together with the past forgotten. / Wait when from distan...»