Я все еще верю, что к жизни вернусь,—
однажды на раннем рассвете проснусь.
На раннем, на легком, в прозрачной росе,
где каплями ветки унизаны все,
и в чаше росянки стоит озерко,
и в нем отражается бег облаков,
и я, наклоняясь лицом молодым,
смотрю, как на чудо, на каплю воды,
и слезы восторга бегут, и легко,
и виден весь мир далеко-далеко...
Я все еще верю, что раннее утро,
знобя и сверкая, вернется опять
ко мне — обнищавшей,
безрадостно-мудрой,
не смеющей радоваться и рыдать...
«And then summer bid farewell / To the station. Taking off its cap, / Thunder took as a souvenir / A hundred blinding photos of night. A bunch of lilacs grew dim. At that / Moment the thunder, gathering an armful / Of lightning, attempted from the field / To illuminate town hall. And wh...»
«I was captivated straight away, / tired of the lies all around me, / by that proud, tragic tale / of a warrior’s death in the mountains. / / And it may have been Roland’s horn / that called me, like Charlemagne, / to a silent pass where the boldest / of many bold fighters lay sl...»
«Our court nightingale, / beak open wide, / can let out the loudest / trills in the world. The creature is stunning / by what pours from his throat – / but it was he who spurred / Derzhavin to write that praise and flattery / are by no means the same: / a slave can flatter / but...»
«Three Robinson Crusoes / in an abandoned shack, / we found a real find — / a single, battered book. We three were friends / and we quickly agreed / to share out this treasure / as Solomon decreed. The foreword for cigarette paper: / one friend was delighted / with a gift so unlik...»