Nikolay Zabolotsky
- Nightingale, by Dmitry Yampolsky
- Nightingale, by Christopher R. Fortune
«Light clear drops by Time are beaded: / Hour past hour, day by day. Has my child by you been seeded? / Dug for you — this early grave? To our outcries — Time is silent! / Raise my hands to steely sky, — Pattern's end, last stitch, it's final. / Punctured canvas. Vacant sigh.»
«Step over, leap, run out, fly. / Steal over it, just move, be willing. / Like arrows — stream towards the sky. / Emblaze the haze, though you’re falling. Where could they be? Search 'round and sigh. / God knows on what you have been dwelling — / Hat... keys are lost or gone awry!»
«It is my last appeal to You — appear. / Let's share a feast of nightly inspiration! / Magnificent, o raise me up so near / To pinnacle where doom befell creation. Yield one last time! In life there is no course / Like farewells so holy, yet rough-watered. / As if my heart is a Lamb to ...»
«How mighty Time strives like a river, / Oh men, your deeds its current brings, / Negates and drowns in oblivion, / Outlasts all countries, realms and kings. / Remains are few, and if a lyre / Unbent sings "fame", or trumpet blasts / Infinity makes pride expire. / No swaying Fate, all w...»