Oh, Muse! I am at my coffin's door!
Be as it may, I am much to blame,
And let people's spite one hundred
Times more my sins' scope multiply –
Do not cry! Our drawn lot enviable,
They will not dispute this nor fight:
Between me and many honest hearts
You will not allow too long a rupture
In our living, breathing, blood union!
Some non-Russian will, without love,
Look upon you, pallid, blood-covered,
Flesh-flayed-by-a-thousand-strokes Muse...
О Муза! я у двери гроба!
Пускай я много виноват,
Пусть увеличит во сто крат
Мои вины людская злоба —
Не плачь! завиден жребий наш,
Не наругаются над нами:
Меж мной и честными сердцами
Порваться долго ты не дашь
Живому, кровному союзу!
Не русский — взглянет без любви
На эту бледную, в крови,
Кнутом иссеченную Музу…
«The word is instant, and life is short. / Where does man find his dwelling spot? / / Where in the world, where in nature’s lap / do the roses of his living soul spring up? / / How does he manage to find a way / to keep to himself, and to have his say, / / to sing his songs, wa...»
«Again I’ve encountered Hope, — what a happy occasion! / I have been away while it never has changed its location. / / She wears Her fortunate poplin apparel as ever, / Her eyes, glowing, ardent, are focused on ages ahead. / You are our sister, and we are Your brethren for ever, / it...»
«For misfortune or for luck / There is a simple thing / That is never coming back / To where you`ve ever been. Even if the old day ashes / Is as used to be / Searching is another crashes / As for you and me. Backward traveling for others / I would forbid in whole / I ask you as if ...»
«Once there lived a soldier-boy, / quite brave, one can’t be braver, / but he was merely a toy / for he was made of paper. / / He wished to alter everything, / and be the whole world’s helper, / but he was puppet on a string, / a soldier made of paper. / / He’d bravely go ...»