«To Maria Pavlovna Ivanova In the embankment’s mad roar, / A colored kerchief thrown over her hair, / She lies and watches, beautiful / And young, as though alive. With a chaste gait, she had walked / Toward noise and whistling beyond the neighboring wood — / The whole length of the p...»
«“Misty morning, gray morning ..." / — TURGENEV Morning. Good luck! Among the houses! / Little bells are tinkling. / You press your silver rings / Coldly against my lips, / And I, how many times, successively, kiss / Your rings and not your hand... / In your thrown-back shoulder / ...»
«I want to live, live to distraction: / To make the present live forever, / Make the impersonal human cover / With flesh whatever now has none! What if life’s torpor stifles me, / What if I suffocate and am dumb — / A happier young man maybe / Will say of me in the years to come: Fo...»
«What, are you grown dull now and perplexed? / Look at me as you used to. / See What in abasement you’ve become, / In the sharp incorruptible light of day! I am myself not what I was — no longer / Distant, proud, and pure and wicked. / I look upon the simple boring earthly round / Wi...»