It is a pity that the winter falls
Mosquitoes fly no more
But you, my dear, allowed me to recall
Light-headed straw.
Dragonflies weave paths across the blue
And like a swallow, circles mode —
Is that there a basket over you
Or pompous ode?
I wish not to advise, comment, dissever —
Excuses mean as little as they feel.
The taste of whipped cream is forever
And smell of orange peel.
You push at me at random from behind
As a result of this nothing gets worse
What can I do: the most tender mind
Is fit entirely on the surface!
And then you try as with an angry spoon
The yolk of egg continually to stir.
It will get white, and now it will succumb
And still, a little more...
Everything teases, all things sing in you
As though it were roulade from Italy.
And then again your little cherry mouth
Begs for a drying grape from me.
So do not try to be smart as that
To you all is a whim, all is a minute,
There is a shadow here of your hat,
And a Venetian bautta is within it.
Мне жалко, что теперь зима
И комаров не слышно в доме,
Но ты напомнила сама
О легкомысленной соломе.
Стрекозы вьются в синеве,
И ласточкой кружится мода;
Корзиночка на голове
Или напыщенная ода?
Советовать я не берусь,
И бесполезны отговорки,
Но взбитых сливок вечен вкус
И запах апельсинной корки.
Ты все толкуешь наобум,
От этого ничуть не хуже,
Что делать: самый нежный ум
Весь помещается снаружи.
И ты пытаешься желток
Взбивать рассерженною ложкой,
Он побелел, он изнемог.
И все-таки еще немножко...
И, право, не твоя вина, —
Зачем оценки и изнанки?
Ты как нарочно создана
Для комедийной перебранки.
В тебе все дразнит, все поет,
Как итальянская рулада.
И маленький вишневый рот
Сухого просит винограда.
Так не старайся быть умней,
В тебе все прихоть, все минута,
И тень от шапочки твоей —
Венецианская баута.
«My former wound is quietened — / The drunk delirium is not eating my heart. / With the blue flowers of Tegeran / I'm healing them in the chaihana. The chaihana man himself with round shoulders, / To glorify his chaihana for Russians, / Is treating me to red tea / Instead of strong vod...»
«I asked the money changer today, / Who gives a half fog for a ruble, / How should I say to the beautiful Lala / The tender Persian 'I love you'? I asked the money changer today / How lighter than wind, quieter than the joyous stream, / Should I say to the beautiful Lala / The tender wor...»
«Shagane, you are my Shagane! / Maybe because I'm from the North, / I'm ready to tell you everything, / About the waving rye under the moon, / My Shagane, Shagane. Maybe because I'm from the North, / That the moon is a hundred times bigger there, / No matter how she could be beautiful, /...»
«You said that Sa'adi / Kissed only on the breasts. / Wait for God sake, / I'll learn one day! You sang 'Behind the Yefrat / The roses are better than mortal girls'. / If I were rich, / I would make another tune. I'd cut these roses, / For there is only one joy for me — / That the...»