My dry and dreary life
Fire has burned down
Not a stone but tree
I am singing now.
It is light and rough;
From a single piece
Come the fisher's oars
And the oak pith.
Nail the pilings tighter,
Knock, hammers, with all might,
About the wooden heaven
Where everything is light.
Уничтожает пламень
Сухую жизнь мою, —
И ныне я не камень,
А дерево пою.
Оно легко и грубо,
Из одного куска
И сердцевина дуба,
И весла рыбака.
Вбивайте крепче сваи,
Стучите, молотки,
О деревянном рае,
Где вещи так легки!
«In memory of Innokentiy Annensky And he, the one whom I regard to be my teacher, / Passed like a shadow and didn’t leave a shadow, / Absorbed the poison, drank down all the stupor, / Awaited glory, and couldn’t wait for glory. / He was an omen and an augury, / He pitied everyone, brea...»
«Like a river, I was turned off course / By the cruel and brutal epoch. / My life was counterfeited and it flowed / Into another channel past the other channel. / I never got to know my native shores. / Oh, just how many spectacles I missed, / The curtains rose without me / And without ...»
«Like someone deaf, blind and mute, / For whom, the only thing left / Is the sense of smell, I breathe in / Dampness, mold, inclement weather / And fleeting, transient smoke...»
«Pray before sleep, / That you don’t wake up famous.»