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.
«The rude are destined for joy; / The tender are destined for sadness. / I pity nothing; / I pity no one. I pity myself a bit; / I pity stray dogs. / This path has led me straight / To a tavern. Why are you yelling, you devils? / Am I not my country’s son? / Everyone here has pawn...»
«Even now, little by little, we are departing / For that land of silence and grace. / Pretty soon I too may have to pack / My measly belongings. My dear birch thickets! / Earth! And you, sands of plains! / Faced with the throng of departing / I cannot hide my anguish. I care too much fo...»
«One dawn calls out to another, / Smoke blows over smooth wheat… / I’m thinking of you, my dear, / My senile mother. Walking up the hill, like you used to, / Clutching your crutch in hand, / You look at the stump of the moon / That drifts down the somnolent river. And I know you’r...»
«I’m walking through the valley. A cap on my head, / A dark-skinned hand in a suede glove. / In the distance, the pink steppes are glowing, / The calm blue river stretches far and wide. I’m a carefree fellow. I don’t need anything. / I just want to listen to songs, sing along in my hea...»