«Sending loved ones off on their way, / I sing songs for them to acquire, / For a memory’s sake, all that they, / Once, themselves, had gifted me prior. Down a green and shimmering lane, / To the crossroad, I walk my beloveds. / Wind, keep singing for them, do not wane, / And you, road...»
«Where does such tenderness come from? / These curls that I stroke with my hand / Aren’t the first that I’ve stroked, and I / Knew lips that were darker than yours. The stars rose in the sky and faded, / Where does such tenderness come from? — / And glowing eyes also rose and faded /...»
«Here, in my Moscow, — cupolas shine.1 / Here, in my Moscow, — church bells chime. / And the tombstones, here, all stand aligned,2 / Tsarinas sleep there, and tsars. You wouldn’t know, but in the Kremlin, at dawn, / One breathes easier — and just here alone! / You wouldn’t know...»
«Above the city Peter had abandoned, / The church bells resonated thunder. Again, their crashing waves have swept / Above the woman that you’ve left. Tsar Peter, and you, tsar, shall be admired! / Yet, here, the bells are elevated higher. So long as they ring out from the blue — / The ...»