You're unhappy, sick at heart:
Oh, I know it-here such sickness isn't rare.
Nature can but mirror
The surrounding poverty.
All is ever drear and dismal,
Pastures, fields, and meadows,
Wet and drowsy jackdaws
Resting on the peaked haystacks;
Here's a drunken peasant driving
His collapsing nag
Into far-off blueish mists,
Such a gloomy sky... It makes one weep!
The rich city is no better, though:
The same storm clouds race across the sky;
It's hard on the nerves-steel shovels
Scraping, screeching as they clean the streets
Work's beginning everywhere;
From the fire tower an alarm goes up;
A condemned man's brought outside
Where the executioners already wait.
At the break of day a prostitute is hurrying
Home from someone's bed;
Officers inside a hired carriage
Leave the city-there will be a duel.
Shopkeepers have roused themselves
And they rush to sit behind their counters:
All day long they need to swindle
If they want to eat their fill at night.
Listen! Cannon fire from the fortress!
There's a flood endangering the capital...
Someone's died: Upon a scarlet cushion
Lies a first-class Anna decoration.
Now a yardman beats a thief-he got him!
Geese are driven out to slaughter;
From an upper floor the crackle
Of a shot-another suicide...
Ты грустна, ты страдаешь душою:
Верю — здесь не страдать мудрено.
С окружающей нас нищетою
Здесь природа сама заодно.
Бесконечно унылы и жалки
Эти пастбища, нивы, луга,
Эти мокрые, сонные галки,
Что сидят на вершине стога;
Эта кляча с крестьянином пьяным,
Через силу бегущая вскачь
В даль, сокрытую синим туманом,
Это мутное небо... Хоть плачь!
Но не краше и город богатый:
Те же тучи по небу бегут;
Жутко нервам – железной лопатой
Там теперь мостовую скребут.
Начинается всюду работа;
Возвестили пожар с каланчи;
На позорную площадь кого–то
Провезли — там уж ждут палачи.
Проститутка домой на рассвете
Поспешает, покинув постель;
Офицеры в наемной карете
Скачут за город: будет дуэль.
Торгаши просыпаются дружно
И спешат за прилавки засесть:
Целый день им обмеривать нужно,
Чтобы вечером сытно поесть.
Чу! из крепости грянули пушки!
Наводненье столице грозит...
Кто–то умер: на красной подушке
Первой степени Анна лежит.
Дворник вора колотит — попался!
Гонят стадо гусей на убой;
Где–то в верхнем этаже раздался
Выстрел — кто–то покончил с собой.
«My sister — life — in a flood of spring rain / Has bruised herself blue all around us today, / But people in watches seem peevish and vain / And bite so politely, like vipers in hay. The old have their motives for such goings on, / Your motives moat likely are silly, I'll bet: / That ...»
«On pavements I will pound them out / Of sun and glass combined; / In winter, let the loft resound / As mildewed corners read my lines. The attic will itself declaim, / With bow to wintry window frame, / And up to ledge and roof will rise / A leap of wonders, woes, and signs. A month an...»
«My age, my beast, who can / Gaze into your pupils / And with his blood cement / The vertebrae of two centuries? Blood the Builder gushes / From the throat of earthly things, / The parasite must tremble / On the threshold of new days. A creature drags its backbone / As long as it's al...»
«They don't wait for letters, / For a letter they wait. / A shred of rag / Around a braid / Of glue. Within — a word. / And happiness. And this - is all. Thus they don't wait for joy, / Thus they wait for the end: / A soldier's salute / And into the chest — lead / Three pieces...»