Nature is Rome, and is reflected there.
We see images of citizen's parades
Like in blue circus, in transparent air,
On forum of the fields and forest's collonades.
Nature is that same Rome, and once more
We do not need to worry Gods in guilt,
From animal entrails to divine of war,
To pray that slaves be quiet and stones be built.
Природа — тот же Рим и отразилась в нем.
Мы видим образы его гражданской мощи
В прозрачном воздухе, как в цирке голубом,
На форуме полей и в колоннаде рощи.
Природа — тот же Рим, и, кажется, опять
Нам незачем богов напрасно беспокоить, —
Есть внутренности жертв, чтоб о войне гадать,
Рабы, чтобы молчать, и камни, чтобы строить!
«There once was a man by the name of Semyonov. / And Semyonov went out for a walk and lost his handkerchief. / And Semyonov started looking for a handkerchief and lost his hat. / And looking for a hat, he lost his jacket. / He began to look for a jacket and lost his boots. / – Yes – sa...»
«The smiles of summer are simply indistinct / And winter is too clear, / But I can unerringly pick out / Three autumns in each year. The first is a holiday chaos / Spiting the summer of yesterday. / Leaves fly like a schoolboy’s notes, / Like incense, the smell of smoke, / Everything...»
«Here the loveliest of young women fight / for the honour of marrying the hangmen; / here the righteous are tortured at night / and the resolute worn down by hunger»
«I love my country, but with a strange love — / stronger than reason!.. / Neither the fame that blood can buy, / nor the calm pride of confidence, / nor the time-honoured gifts of ignorant days / can stir my soul with dreams of happiness. But what I love — for some strange reason — ...»