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.
«Among the worlds, in glimmering of stars, / The single Star is ever my attraction ... / Not ’cause I’d so loved Her so far, / But ’cause I live with others with aversion. And if my doubts were an awful plight, / I just from Her wait for the final answers, / Not ’cause She sends ...»
«Amid the worlds, ’mid luminaries’ gleam, / One Star I know whose name I keep repeating. / It’s not that of my love for Her I dream: / It’s that with others all is mirthless cheating. And when oppressive doubt I have to fight, / Her answer only have I sought and heeded. / It’s no...»
«Among cold worlds, immersed in starry glow, / One single star’s name I repeat- why bother / It’s not because she has my only love / Because it’s simply far too dark with others. And if it’s getting heavy with the doubt / Hers is the only precious answer heeded / It’s not because...»
«Behold the man, whose race was first begun / So long ago, when light first lit creation; / One cannot count the centuries he’s run: / Run high, run far, toward some consecration, Some blessed goal. What triumph might it be / That beckons him to run, to conquer distance? / Behold the ma...»