I drink to military asters, to all that I’m censured about,
To the fur coats of nobles, to asthma, to the jaundiced Petersburg day,
To the music of pines in Savoie, gasoline on the Champs-Elysees,
To roses in a Rolls-Royce saloon, to Parisian pictures’ oil paint.
I drink to the surf of Biscay, to a jug of cream from the Alps,
To English girls’ redheaded hauteur, and distant colonial quinine;
I drink but still have to choose between wines:
Sparkling Asti Spumante or Chateauneuf-de-Pape.
____
Either military decorations or the gold braid of epaulettes. The things toasted in the poem all evoke the Western bourgeois world no longer accessible to Soviet citizens as the right to travel abroad disappeared. [Translator’s note]
Я пью за военные астры, за все, чем корили меня,
За барскую шубу, за астму, за желчь петербургского дня.
За музыку сосен савойских, Полей Елисейских бензин,
За розу в кабине рольс-ройса и масло парижских картин.
Я пью за бискайские волны, за сливок альпийских кувшин,
За рыжую спесь англичанок и дальних колоний хинин.
Я пью, но еще не придумал – из двух выбираю одно:
Веселое асти-спуманте иль папского замка вино.
«On his hand you may see many glittering rings, / Those are tender girls’ hearts, rightful trophies of flings. There a diamond exults and an opal daydreams, / And a beautiful ruby emits crimson whims. But on his pallid hand my gemstone will not shine, / None shall ever be granted this jewel...»
«The evening light is steeped in gold / And April chill is mild and tender. / You’re late by eons, unforetold, / I’m glad to welcome my attender. Sit close in a cozy nook, / Look on with cheerful expression: / Here’s my blue cover notebook / With childish rhyming indiscretions. Fo...»
«Blessings to you, the unbearable pain! / Our fair gray eyed king will no longer reign. One autumn evening was stuffy and red, / My dear old husband solemnly said: "Hunters brought him all wrapped up in a cloak, / They found his dead body at the old oak. Pity the queen. He was so young and g...»
«Through macrocosm and scintillating orbs / I say the name of One Celestial Lover… / Not that I have been loving Her before, / But that I have been wearied by the others. And if the doubt exacts a heavy toll, / She is the One I’m begging for true guidance, / Not that She brings mor...»