The car shuddered and stopped,
They stepped into the evening spaces,
And work-worn the driver sank
Exhausted over his wheel.
Far off, through the windows,
Trembled fiery constellations.
The old man, with his lady friend,
Stopped by the flowerbed.
And heavy-eyed, the driver
Was startled by their two faces
Lost forever in each other,
Oblivious of themselves.
A faint glow emanated
From each of them, and the summer’s
Departing beauty wrapped them
In its multifold embrace.
Like glasses of blood-red wine,
There were flame-headed cannae there,
And plumes of gray columbine
And gold-disked ox-eye daisies.
This brief spell of happiness
Enfolded the lovers like a sea,
Though grief could be felt in the offing
And autumnal days were near.
And drawing closer to each other,
These homeless children of night
Silently walked in a floral circle,
In the electric glare of the lights.
And the car stood there in the dark,
Its motor shuddering,
And the driver smiled wearily,
Winding down his window.
For he knew that summer was ending,
That rainy days were to follow,
That their song was long ago over,
Which, mercifully, they did not know.
Задрожала машина и стала,
Двое вышли в вечерний простор,
И на руль опустился устало
Истомленный работой шофер.
Вдалеке через стекла кабины
Трепетали созвездья огней.
Пожилой пассажир у куртины
Задержался с подругой своей.
И водитель сквозь сонные веки
Вдруг заметил два странных лица,
Обращенных друг к другу навеки
И забывших себя до конца.
Два туманные легкие света
Исходили из них, и вокруг
Красота уходящего лета
Обнимала их сотнями рук.
Были тут огнеликие канны,
Как стаканы с кровавым вином,
И седых аквилегий султаны,
И ромашки в венце золотом.
В неизбежном предчувствии горя,
В ожиданье осенних минут,
Кратковременной радости море
Окружало любовников тут.
И они, наклоняясь друг к другу,
Бесприютные дети ночей,
Молча шли по цветочному кругу
В электрическом блеске лучей.
А машина во мраке стояла,
И мотор трепетал тяжело,
И шофер улыбался устало,
Опуская в кабине стекло.
Он-то знал, что кончается лето,
Что подходят ненастные дни,
Что давно уж их песенка спета, —
То, что, к счастью, не знали они.
«I must he ill, of course. I’ve been shivering / for three days now like a horse before the races. / Even the haughty man who lives on my landing / has said as much to me: / Bella, you’re shaking! / / Please control yourself, this strange disease of yours / is rocking the walls, it...»
«1 All morning I’ve had this Rain around me. / Rudely, I kept on saying: Leave me alone! / So it drew back, but soon there it was again / as sad and loving as a little daughter. Rain. On my back. Stuck there like a wing. / I reproached it: Here, you / shameless, useless thing! / Think...»
«Your house, all without feeling of misfortune, / Has met me and has smacked me on my cheek. / As if a fish out from water, / Behind the glass looked a tea service. / A dog has leaped out to me, / As small jackdaw, and yelling, / Defenseless burs, all with thorn's heap, / Were sitting t...»
«Avenues so wretched, / snowbanks, bitter frost. / Desperate little urchins / with trays of cigarettes. / Wandering dirty avenues, / enjoying evil games – / all of them are pickpockets, / all are jolly thieves. / That bunch takes Nikitskaya, / this – Tverskaya Square. / They s...»