There was a lad who once lived in our village,
He had a youthful bride with raven hair,
That self-same year when she and he turned twenty
Came war, and tore him from his bride so fair.
The hero’s bride is now a hero’s widow.
Her hair is grey, her eyes have lost their fire;
Their son, who bears his father’s name so precious,
Today is older than his fallen sire.
У юноши из нашего аула
Была черноволосая жена,
В тот год, когда по двадцать им минуло,
Пришла и разлучила их война.
Жена двадцатилетнего героя
Сидит седая около крыльца,
Их сын, носящий имя дорогое,
Сегодня старше своего отца.
«Sonnet For two days they have been whispering here: / Straight and dumb, still that same guest is / In the house, and the chrysanthemums’ shaggy / Locks are withering in the suffocating smoke... I look on and think: peace to him, / But to us, to all of us, has the / Hatchway into that ...»
«To N. S. Gumiliev The day was early and milkily moist. We would soon / Be leaving and they had fastened the luggage... / On the highway in front of the harnessed pair / The winking lanterns had started to smoke. Behind was only an abandoned country cottage, / Yellow and slippery... From th...»
«Sonnet The candles had long been flooded with / The wavering ashes of sunset streaks, but / The incense that swirled was still flowing, / And ever turning pale, the flowers shrank. And dreams were so insane in the / Vaporous sea of prayers and tears, / On the waving halo of hair and / ...»
«Did one’s heart not languish / With desire for the thunderstorm. / Through white-scarlet Hashes? / But now it has fallen in love with / The turquoise’s fathomlessness. / With its weary eyes!.. All that there is of azure / Has poured itself into ...»