Let the names of flowery cities
Caress the ear with fleeting glory —
It is not Rome the city that’s immortal,
But man’s presence in the universe.
Kings try to get man in their power,
Priests find excuses for their wars,
And yet without him hearths and altars
Like wretched rubble are beneath contempt.
Пусть имена цветущих городов
Ласкают слух значительностью бренной.
Не город Рим живет среди веков,
А место человека во вселенной.
Им овладеть пытаются цари,
Священники оправдывают войны,
И без него презрения достойны,
Как жалкий сор, дома и алтари.
«We are all heavy-drinkers and whores, / What a joyless, miserable crowd! / There are flowers and birds on the walls, / And the birds all grieve for a cloud. You are smoking your old black pipe, / And the smoke looks strange over it. / The skirt that I’m wearing feels tight, / But I ho...»
«After the wind and the frost in the yard, / It was nice to have the fire warm me. / But I’ve failed to watch my heart / And here it was taken from me. The lavish New Year’s party won’t adjourn, / Moist stems of roses catch the eyes, / But, in my chest, one can no more discern / Th...»
«...By the staircase, outside, / No one greeted me. On my own, / In the moon’s unfaithful light, / I entered the quiet home. Beneath the lamp’s green halo, / With a lifeless smile, / He whispered, “Cinderella, / Your voice is so full of guile...” The hearth is fading to embers, ...»
«Imagination with submission / Depicts those cold grey eyes to me. / In Tver’s seclusion, I envision / And think about you bitterly. A beauty’s captive, you are merry / There on the Neva’s distant shore. / My prominent contemporary, / You got what you’ve been asking for, You ord...»