As the first signs of winter
Hover above the Neva's expanse,
We compare the scattered leaves
Along its banks to summer's radiance.
But I admire these old poplars
Whose branches refuse to shed
Their dry and rusty armor
Till winter's first storms ahead.
How to describe our similarity?
Like the poplar I'm growing old,
And I too should meet, in my armor,
Winter's coming, its mortal cold.
При первом наступлении зимы,
Блуждая над просторною Невою,
Сиянье лета сравниваем мы
С разбросанной по берегу листвою.
Но я любитель старых тополей,
Которые до первой зимней вьюги
Пытаются не сбрасывать с ветвей
Своей сухой заржавленной кольчуги.
Как между нами сходство описать?
И я, подобно тополю, не молод,
И мне бы нужно в панцире встречать
Приход зимы, ее смертельный холод.
«Blizzard with a darkness covers / All the sky and wheels in whirls, / As a beast it hardly groans, / As a baby – cries in turn, / Or is rustling with a thatch old / On the roof without mind, / Or is knocking door and window / As a traveller, late to come. Our decrepit hut old / Is...»
«Blizzard covers skies with dark mist / swirling snowy whirlwinds; / either howls like a wild beast / or reminds the cry of kids; / cracks by rotten thatch with anger / on the old roof in a fuss, / or as a belated stranger / knocks at window to us. This old hut sank into sadness / an...»
«The storm covers skies in darkness, / Spinning snowy whirlwinds tight, / Now it wails like a beast wildest, / Now it cries like a week child, / Now suddenly it rustles / The old roof’s dry thatching mass, / Now, a traveller, late and gusty, / It knocks at our window’s glass. Our h...»
«Three apples. They’re beloved of tradition, / Three symbols of rebellion here on earth, / In ancient garden, knowing new fruition, / They burn beneath dreams’ gusting trembles’ birth. O you, primeval woman’s fatal apple! / You tore the light of Eden from her eyes, / Upon us sheddi...»